


Remember The Time

by indiefic, Tangofic



Series: Smooth Criminal Series [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 23:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4457330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangofic/pseuds/Tangofic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set 18 years after the end of Smooth Criminal. Buffy and Angel are both 36.  It was supposed to be happily ever after, but sometimes that's easier said than done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hearing a car door slam, Buffy looked up from the dishes she was washing. The afternoon sun bathed the front yard in a warm light that glinted off Samantha's long locks, making them look like spun gold. Taking a moment, Buffy turned off the water and watched her elder daughter smile, leaning against the convertible's recently closed passenger side door as she flirted with the young man that had just given her a ride home from school.

Something icy pulled at Buffy's insides and she quickly dried her hands. Striding to the front door, she pulled it open and called "Samantha, you need to come inside now."

Turning, Samantha frowned at her mother, but ever socially perfect, she never let on to her would-be boyfriend that anything was wrong. A few more smiles and laughs and she was soon waving goodbye as she carefully made her way up the front steps in impossibly high heels, looking as immaculately put together as she had when she left that morning.

Once inside, Samantha turned to face her mother, taking advantage of the fact that in three inch heels she was an inch taller than Buffy, who was in bare feet. "I'm eighteen years old and it's the middle of the afternoon," Samantha huffed. "Nothing was going on."

Frowning, Buffy said, "I know, it's just … " She trailed off. "Never mind, honey."

Shaking her head, Samantha turned and made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. Buffy sighed, walking into the living room and collapsing onto the couch. Turning, she looked at the pictures decorating the mantle. A lifetime of memories stared back at her from the artfully arranged frames. The newest picture was Samantha's senior portrait. Samantha was an absolutely lovely girl, the mirror image of her mother at the same age, same long, blonde hair, slight build, perfectly creamy completion and mutable hazel eyes, though slightly more petite.

Buffy looked from Samantha's picture to the picture of herself and Angel taken their senior year in high school. Buffy had been three months pregnant at the time. "Gods, I was just a baby," she whispered, looking at herself and Angel smiling at each other, absurdly happy.

Buffy winced as she heard the back door slam loudly, but was too overwhelmed to get off the couch at that particular moment. She heard several minutes of obvious cabinet raiding before the inevitable "Why isn't there any fucking food in this house?" boomed from the kitchen.

Sighing, Buffy yelled, "Language!"

Pushing herself up, Buffy walked into the kitchen to find her younger daughter riffling through the refrigerator. Josephine "Call me Joey or I'll break your fucking nose" was as much her father's child as Samantha was her mother's. In her bare feet, Joey was nearly six feet tall and her body looked like it belonged to a twenty-five year old, not a fifteen year old, all lush curves and toned muscle. She was wearing her ever present leather pants and tight babydoll t-shirt. Her unruly dark locks were clipped short and spiked up with gel.

"There's popcorn in the cabinet," Buffy offered.

Joey frowned at her. "I'm not a bird," she snapped. "Samantha eats that crap. I want some real food."

Rolling her eyes, Buffy pushed Joey aside and carefully plucked the items necessary to make a sandwich out of the refrigerator. "There," Buffy said, motioning to the counter.

Joey stared at the food and then looked back to Buffy, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout. "Mom," she whined.

Sighing, Buffy proceeded to make her daughter a sandwich.

Joey was sitting at the small kitchen table, her walkman blaring, flipping through a magazine as she ate her sandwich. Buffy cleaned up the newest mess and went about finishing washing the dishes.

Angel burst through the back door and headed upstairs without so much as a hello. Ten minutes later, he reappeared in the kitchen, wearing only a pair of black slacks, his hair still wet from his speedy shower. "You're not ready to go," he said to Buffy.

Carefully refolding the dish towel, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked at her husband. "Ready to go where?" she asked.

He huffed, looking at her incredulously. "We're supposed to be having dinner with the Nabbits in half an hour," he said shortly.

Buffy shook her head. "Angel, I have study group every Tuesday night. You know that. I told you last week I couldn't go."

He looked at her like she wasn't even speaking English. "These are the Nabbits," he said seriously. "They're considering investing in the new complex we're trying to open in San Francisco."

"We don't need the complex in San Francisco," Buffy informed him impatiently. She was getting very tired of having this conversation. "We hardly see you as it is now. And we definitely don't need the money."

Angel sighed, shrugging into the white button-up shirt he had been holding. "If I can get Nabbit as a partner, I'll have more time."

Buffy turned away, walking past him and up the stairs. He followed on her heels. "You always say that, Angel," she said. "But with every new investor you get, it just means more work for you."

"The other situations were different," Angel continued. "This time, I promise. I'll have more time."

Buffy turned around, staring up at him. "You always say that," she said wearily.

He frowned, leaning down to wrap his arms around her waist as he pulled her against his body. Buffy sighed, leaning her head against his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I promise," he said. "With Nabbit, things will change."

"I'll believe it when I see it," she informed him.

Angel released her as she continued down the hall to the bedroom. He followed her inside and closed the door. He sat down on the bed, pulling on his socks as he watched her shimmy out of her clothes with avid interest.

But as she pulled on a pair of low rise jeans and a red sweater with a deep V, he asked, "What are you doing?"

Turning, she looked at him. "I have study group," she repeated very slowly.

Angel dropped his shoe. "You're honestly not going with me tonight?" he asked, obviously shocked.

"Angel, dammit, I’m in law school," she said. "I waited years to do this, for the girls to be old enough for me to devote this much time to something. It's hard. I can't just drop everything every time you have something you need me to do. If I don't study, I'm going to flunk out of school."

“Baby,” Angel groaned, pulling himself to his feet. “Can’t you miss it just this once? This meeting is really important.”

“My education is really important too,” Buffy threw back before heading toward the door. “I told you I couldn’t go but you don’t listen!” With that, she headed toward the door and flung it open. She hurried out of the room and down the stairs, scooping up her backpack from its resting place in the living room before she headed out. Angel caught her at the front door and spun her around.

“Angel-“ Buffy started, but found herself tucked into his arms, his lips covering hers. She relented briefly but pulled away before he could deepen the kiss. He frowned at her when she backed out of his arms.

“You’re really going to the study session,” he stated plainly, looking into her angry and determined face.

“I’ll be home late,” she said, shaking her head and went through the door, letting it slam behind her.

***

“The basic idea of negligence is that they are required to perform in the way a reasonably prudent person would act under the circumstances,” Buffy said, leaning over the table at the Espresso Pump to make her issue. “The police could have dropped off the plaintiff pretty much anywhere, like, oh, I don’t know, some place safer. That’s not exactly prudent.”

“But we haven’t studied negligence yet, Buffy,” Lindsey argued. “Even if we had, there’s no cause for action because they didn’t restrict his physical freedom when they gave the kid more freedom than he would have had without a lift from them.” Lindsey met her eyes with a slow smile and took a sip of his coffee. He wished for beer but swallowed the hot liquid without complaint. One day soon he was getting Buffy into a bar instead of a coffee shop.

Buffy almost laughed, shaking her head. “Of course you would already know everything there is to know about what we haven’t studied yet.”

“Fourth generation lawyer, darlin’,” Lindsey drawled leaning back in his chair. “I’ve heard more about negligence than you can shake a stick at, besides Property and Tort was my grandfather’s specialty.”

“My father’s a librarian,” Buffy countered, “but I don’t know anything about the Dewey Decimal system.”

“Well, he probably didn’t make you spend your summers in the library either,” Lindsey said, chuckling. “Anyway, you study enough for both of us. I say we’ve beaten this case to death. Let’s go get a cold one to tide us over to the next chapter.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and checked her watch. It was already 11:30 and she was exhausted. “One more hour here,” she said, “and then I’m going home to bed. A beer would knock me off my feet.”

"Would that be so bad?" he asked, dispensing with all subtlety as his eyes raked over her form. He was twenty-four and Buffy was thirty-six, but he'd had older lovers in the past. And Buffy was a gorgeous woman with a mind to match. "I promise I'd be there to catch you."

Buffy's good humor evaporated and her spine stiffened.

"Oh no," Lindsey bemoaned, "here it comes."

"I'm married," Buffy said shortly. She genuinely enjoyed Lindsey's company. He was smart and easy on the eyes with a biting wit and a healthy dose of good ol' boy charm that no doubt secured him invitations into the beds of any available women. But Buffy wasn't available.

"I know you're married," he said. "And I know you're older than me. I also know I don't care. I want you."

Buffy's breath caught in her throat and as much as she wanted to, she couldn't break eye contact. There was a fluttering low in her stomach and her heart beat far faster than it should. This was wrong, so very wrong. But she couldn't deny that she was most definitely physically attracted to Lindsey. And the sensations he wrought in her were undeniably fascinating, all sparkly and new. What she had with Lindsey was completely different from what she shared with Angel.

Angel. Her husband. Her mate. Her lover for nearly the last two decades.

"On second thought, maybe I should go now," Buffy said tightly, closing her books and efficiently packing them away into her satchel.

Leaning across the table, Lindsey caught her wrist lightly in his grip. "You can't run from this," he said.

Looking up, Buffy met his eyes for a brief second. "Watch me."

***

Buffy was in the office, the desk strewn with books, none of which could secure her attention. She was forcing herself to study, trying to put the recent, jarring encounter with Lindsey out of her mind. It was late, she should just go to bed, but Angel wasn't home yet and she didn't like sleeping alone.

She heard the front door open and close and several minutes later, Angel appeared in the doorway, lounging against the jamb. He'd taken off his suit jacket and the top few buttons on his shirt were undone. Buffy swiveled her desk chair around, facing him.

Mutely, he crossed the distance to where she sat. He dropped to his knees in front of her. Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around her waist, his head dropping to her lap. Buffy sighed deeply, running her fingers through his hair.

"You're my whole world," he said. "You know that, right?"

Her eyes misted and she whispered, "I love you, Angel."

He straightened up, still kneeling between her legs. He pulled her closer, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. Buffy melted against him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she deepened the kiss. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held tightly to him as he stood and made his way to the bedroom. After twenty years of carrying his wife around the house, Angel knew the way by heart and continued to focus on kissing her as he went.

He was three steps from their bedroom door when they pulled from each other and cocked their heads in the direction of the stairs. Angel held Buffy close and tiptoed toward the stairs, listening ever more closely to the sounds coming from the living room. Thirty seconds later, he set Buffy lightly on her feet, kissed her forehead and made his way down the stairs where he found Joey on the couch with a guy who looked like he fell face first into a barrel of metal. He was pierced so randomly and frequently, Angel thought it couldn’t have possibly been on purpose. He had a huge tattoo on the side of his neck and one of his hands was moving over his baby girl’s chest.

“Hi, honey,” Angel said casually. There was a smile on his face, but his eyes were almost black with rage as he bared his teeth at the boy. His movements were unhurried and fluid as he made his way down the steps.

Joey jumped up from the couch and backed away from the metal faced kid. “Daddy, don’t freak out. I thought you’d be asleep already.”

Joey’s boyfriend pulled himself from the couch to look at Joey’s dad. His eyes widened as he took in the huge frame of the man who stood only a couple of inches taller than his daughter and still managed to look huge and menacing. It was the murderous glint in eyes that matched his daughter’s that made him back toward the door.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Angel snarled, moving closer to circle the couch.

“This is Eric,” Joey said, standing in the way of her father, “and he has to *run.*”

Ever interested in self-preservation, Eric did run for the door. Joey attempted to get in the way, but Angel carefully plucked her off her feet and set her aside effortlessly as he pounced on the very dead man who had been groping his baby. Eric was pinned to the wall with Angel's forearm quickly cutting off his oxygen supply when Buffy said, "Angel, you can't kill him."

"I beg to differ," Angel growled, pressing his forearm even harder into the idiot's windpipe.

"Angel!" Buffy snapped.

Glowering, Angel pulled back far enough that Eric could breathe, but he didn't release him.

"Eric, how old are you?" Buffy asked calmly.

Eric glared at her, but when Angel increased the pressure, he squeaked out, "Twenty-two."

Buffy nodded, taking a moment to give her daughter a glare that could have frozen ice. "Well, Eric," Buffy said. "I don't know what my daughter told you or if you even asked, but she's fifteen."

Eric's glower faltered and then finally failed completely as he gaped at Joey. "She's not fifteen. My kid sister's fifteen. Fifteen doesn't look like that."

"Trust me," Buffy said seriously, "she's fifteen and unless you want to add a few more felony charges to what is undoubtedly an impressive rap sheet, I suggest you never, ever come near her again."

Eric swallowed thickly and looked at Angel, "I didn't know, man," he said seriously. "I swear, if I'd known she was just a kid, I wouldn't have dreamed of it."

Angel growled, leaning in closer to his prey. "I know my wife was talking about felonies," he whispered, "but I assure you if you touch her again, you won't have to worry about the police. I'll just kill you."

Eric read the pure truth in Angel's eyes and nodded frantically. Two seconds after Angel released him, Eric was out the door and running down the sidewalk. In tandem, Buffy and Angel turned to face Joey, their arms crossed over their chests.

"What were you thinking?" Angel bellowed. "Do you know anything about that guy? He could have been dangerous. He could have hurt you."

Joey rolled her eyes, trying to appear unconcerned with her parents' obvious anger.

"Why on Earth would you bring a delinquent like that home?" Buffy asked. "What are you trying to prove? You're fifteen, Josephine. Do you want to throw your life away?"

Joey looked at her mother with pure contempt written on her face. "Worked for you, didn't it?" she bit out.

Buffy's eyes went wide and she gaped at her daughter. For her part, Joey obviously understood she'd gone too far. Her confidence seemed to wane.

Angel took a step forward, his face set in perfectly hard lines. "You're grounded for a month," he said. "No parties, no dates, no gigs, no band practice. You will be with either me or your mother or Giles and Jenny every second you're not in school."

"Daddy," Joey whined, her eyes welling with tears.

That pout from his baby girl could usually reduce Angel to mush in record time, but not tonight. His expression never faltered. "Upstairs," he said. "Now."

***

Buffy was already in bed, turned toward the wall when Angel finally walked into the bedroom. He set his toolbox in the corner. Buffy didn't need to ask. She knew that he'd nailed Joey's bedroom windows shut. She watched him undress and climb into bed, where he immediately pulled her against him.

“Did you talk to her?” Buffy asked after a long pause.

“Yeah,” Angel grunted. “Apparently his ‘wicked cool’ motorcycle was parked down the street and he’s in some death metal band from Los Angeles.”

“Twenty-two, Angel,” she muffed against his chest, before sitting up. “That’s almost as old as us! He could have done anything to her! She’s just a baby. She thinks she understands the world but she doesn’t.”

“I know,” Angel said quietly. “I talked to her about it, but I think she needs to hear it from you.”

“Why?” Buffy sniffed. “Cause you spent the time shouting expletives and threatening to kill him?”

“For only part of it,” Angel grumbled back. He gathered her closer against him and kissed the top of her head. He waited for the inevitable smartass reply and looked down to see she had fallen fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy woke very pleasantly, her back arching as a moan broke past her lips. “Angel,” she groaned, arching her hips insistently against his talented mouth. He suckled her clit as he added another finger to the two already inside her clenching channel. Her fingers twined through his hair, pulling as she climaxed.

Buffy was still dazed, only semi-conscious as Angel made his way up her body. He stopped, pressing his face against her abdomen as he always did. It was his ritual, pressing long kisses and laving with his tongue the scars that bisected her stomach. The scars were old, but still prominent. Initially, it had bothered Buffy that he gave something she deemed so unsightly such reverent attention, but he’d been insistent. He said the scars reminded him of how close he’d come to losing not only her, but Samantha, and of just how lucky he truly was.

He gave the scar one last kiss before moving further up her body, capturing a nipple between his teeth. Buffy murmured contentedly, wrapping her legs around his hips. Angel took it for the invitation it was and slid inside her body, nearly purring in satisfaction.

***

An hour later, Angel finally collapsed onto his back next to his wife. She turned into him, pressing a hard kiss to his tattoo-covered shoulder. “You’re going to be late to work,” she murmured.

Angel groaned and turned over to glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. He cursed under his breath and rose quickly, pulling open the closet doors. “I forgot to tell you,” he said as he rummaged through a large number of Buffy’s shoes before coming back out with a suitcase. “Nabbit and I are going to San Francisco for a couple of days to tour the site and discuss what needs to be done.”

“Today?” Buffy echoed irritably as her afterglow quickly faded. “Angel, I need you here! Someone has to be around to keep an eye on Joey and although Samantha hasn’t been any trouble she’s been dating a guy in a sports car. A sports car, Angel. A red one.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Angel cast in her general direction as he pulled clothes from the closet. “I know this is last minute, but it’ll just be for a couple of days. The girls are old enough to be by themselves for a while if you can’t be here.”

“That isn’t the point!” Buffy fumed. “You’re never here. You went on a business trip last week and you promised you be around for a few weeks before you left again.”

“I know,” Angel sighed. He turned and watched her fight with her robe for a moment before briskly tying the silk sash around her waist. “I didn’t know he’d be so anxious to see the site. I need his partnership so I can be around more. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Two days tops. He’s going to be leaving for Europe for a business trip next week and won’t be back for a month. I need to seal this before he leaves.”

“Why?” Buffy groaned. “Why does this mean so much to you? Why can’t you be here with your family?”

“I’m doing this for you and the girls,” Angel said, crossing the room to her and bracing his hands on her narrow shoulders. “I want our daughters to have something important, to know that we’ve built a company that they will inherit one day.”

“When will you realize that we love *you*, not the businesses or the money or what you’ve made of yourself? You aren’t that guy in high school anymore Angel. You’re a father and a husband. Your children and your wife need you here!”

“Two days,” Angel promised. “And then I’ll be here. I just want to finish this one and then I’ll take a break for a while.”

“You always say that!” she shouted angrily. “I’m so fucking tired of this, Angel!”

Angel watched her storm out, stunned by her fury over the situation. He stood there and listened to the bathroom door slam behind her and seconds later when the shower turned on he cursed out loud. Now he wasn’t going to get into the bathroom for an hour at the very least.

“Fuck!” he growled and turned to toss more clothes in his bag.

***

His foul temper getting worse by the second, Angel quickly made his way down the stairs. He dropped his suitcase by the front door and turned to grab his jacket off the coat rack. He stopped mid-motion, noticing Joey sitting on the end of the couch, suitcase in hand. “Where do you think you’re going?” he snapped.

His daughter gaped at him, glaring at him with unbridled irritation. “With you,” she replied nastily.

Angel’s brow furrowed and he turned to look at Buffy as she walked into the living room, dressed for the day and holding a cup of coffee. “Nuh uh,” she said, shaking her head at Joey. “Go change. You’re not wearing that.”

Defiantly, Joey crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

Buffy’s gaze narrowed. “With all that metal, it’s going to take you two hours to get through airport security. Go change. Now.”

Huffing in indignation, Joey stomped up the stairs to her room. Angel turned to look at his wife. “What’s going on?”

She smiled tightly. “You’re taking Joey to San Francisco with you,” Buffy informed him shortly. On that note, she turned on her heel and leisurely made her way back to the kitchen.

Angel followed directly on her heels, huffing in exasperation. “Are you insane?” he finally managed in a strangled whisper. “I can’t take my fifteen year old daughter on a business trip of this magnitude.”

Buffy spun around, pointing at him with her index finger and Angel knew he was in trouble. “Oh yes you can,” she informed him darkly. “Remember when my great aunt Lydia died? We were all supposed to go to the funeral and you had some last second emergency down at the shop. I took a newborn and a toddler, both of whom were sick at the time, on an international flight by myself and then got to drag them all over England.”

“That was fifteen years ago,” he countered irritably. “Why are you still pissed about that?”

“Because nothing ever changes,” she yelled, slamming her coffee cup down onto the kitchen island so hard the hot liquid sloshed everywhere. She groaned in frustration, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes for several long moments. When she finally dropped her arms, she was still glaring at him. “I am always stuck with the kids while you’re off living your life,” she informed him coldly.

“That’s not fair, Buffy,” he said seriously. “’My life’ as you insist on calling it, is all for you and the girls. I do my best to provide for this family.”

“I’m not denying that,” Buffy said. “But I also know that your presence is more important than the money you make.” She sighed deeply, turning around and wetting a dishcloth before wiping up the coffee she had spilled. Angel watched her mutely. She rinsed the cloth and draped it over the side of the sink. Finally, she turned back to him.

“I’m sick of it, Angel,” she said wearily. “And I’m not going to do it anymore. I’m tired of being the one that always has to be the bad guy. You’re the one that grounded Joey and now you’re taking off, leaving me here to be the focal point of all of her tantrums and rebellion.”

Angel looked at his wife, his brow furrowed. “It’s not really that bad, is it?” he asked softly.

“I get to be the monster and you get to be the world’s greatest dad,” Buffy informed him seriously.

Angel was at a loss for words, simply staring at Buffy’s weary countenance. Her shoulders were slumped and she looked defeated in a way Angel had never imagined she could.

Buffy cleared her throat, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re taking Joey with you to San Francisco,” she told him.

***

Buffy watched from the front door as Angel and Joey stormed to the car wearing twin snarls on their faces. The car roared out of the driveway and she could see as Angel backed out that he and Joey were already yelling at each other. She padded across the room, curled up on the end of the couch and closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to feel guilty for sending Joey with Angel. For the last eighteen years, she had been the bad guy. Angel could try it out for two days and see where that took him.

Buffy was startled awake when she heard the clickity, clackity of designer high heel shoes coming down the stairs and she quickly checked her watch. She must have fallen asleep and now she was going to be running late. Buffy hopped up from the couch and walked briskly to the stairs, intending on freshening up before she went to class, but stopped when her daughter paused on the second step down and appraised her mother.

“You let Joey ditch school to go to San Francisco with Daddy?” Samantha asked coolly, as if she didn’t already know the answer.

“This isn’t a field trip,” Buffy grouched. “She’s been punished for her behavior.”

“And going shopping and having a free tour of another city is a punishment?” Samantha asked casually as she appraised her perfect manicure.

“Go to school, Samantha,” Buffy growled.

“You know Daddy is going to give her his credit card and send her someplace out of his way so he can have his meeting!” Samantha shouted, stomping her petite foot on the stair. “If that’s punishment, maybe I should let some boy grope me in the living room.”

“Go. To. School,” Buffy said, brushing past her to head up the stairs.

“Mom!”

“Now!”

***

“Kellerman is such a prick!”

Buffy looked up, watching as her fellow student, Amy Madison, flopped onto the old library sofa next to her. “He’s particular,” Buffy admitted. She rather liked Professor Kellerman. She was one of the few. She actually liked the old man’s dry wit and gruffness, having no trouble seeing through it to the concerned teacher underneath.

“He’s a slave driver,” Amy groused, pulling her notebook out of her backpack.

“He has his moments,” Buffy offered. She often kept her opinions to herself around her classmates, not wanting to single herself out anymore than she already was. The vast majority of her classmates were in their early twenties and their outlook on life and the world in general tended to be different from Buffy’s more seasoned view. She didn’t take every homework assignment as a personal attack on her social life, nor did she see her life crumbling before her if she didn’t do as well as expected on a test.

Sighing, Amy looked at her day calendar. “Hey,” she said, nudging Buffy in the shoulder, “you going to Virginia’s party tomorrow night?”

Buffy was about to respond when Lindsey and another classmate, Justine Cooper joined them in the small study alcove. “Yeah,” Justine goaded. “You have to go.”

“Nope, look at that face,” Lindsey said, slumping into a chair, his legs stretched out carelessly in front of him. “Buffy’s about to give us all the brush off once again.”

Rolling her eyes, Buffy said, “I have a family. I can’t party like I’m in college.”

“You are in college,” Justine pointed out.

“And how old are your kids?” Amy asked tactlessly. “Surely they can take care of themselves for a few hours. Or is this about your husband? Does he not like the little woman gettin’ a social life of her own?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Angel’s fine with me going out,” Buffy said, knowing it wasn’t precisely true. He never admitted to having an issue with her occasionally going out with her classmates, but he did tend to pout a good bit. “And it’s not because of him, he’s actually in San Francisco with our youngest daughter – “

“Good then,” Lindsey interrupted. “You can go.”

Buffy opened her mouth to respond and realized Lindsey was right. Angel and Joey would be out of town until Saturday afternoon. “But Samantha ... “ Buffy began.

“Is eighteen years old, isn’t she?” Lindsey pressed. “Buffy, she can take care of herself. Just go to the party with us.”

Buffy sighed in defeat. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go to the party tomorrow.”

***

“So what did Joey do today?” Buffy asked, her voice taut, her fingers biting into the receiver. On the other end of the phone, Angel was quiet and Buffy knew he was trying to think up an excuse that would work. “Dammit, Angel,” Buffy cursed. “She’s supposed to be being punished.”

“What do you want me to do?” Angel demanded. “I’m in meetings all day.”

“That doesn’t mean you have just hand her cash and let her run loose,” Buffy countered grouchily. “The hotel has cable. She could have parked her butt in the room and worked on all the homework that she can never seem to remember to turn in.”

“Buffy – “ Angel started and it was almost a whine.

“You just hate being the bad guy,” Buffy snapped. “You’d rather spoil Joey than risk having her mad at you. I hope you know you’re not doing her any favors.”

“They’re my little girls,” Angel countered gruffly, his irritation growing. “Why is it a bad thing if I want to see them happy?”

“Happy?” Buffy bit out. “Well, I’m sure Joey will be deliriously happy when she manages to flunk out of school and ends up pregnant by some recent parolee from San Quentin.”

“Now you’re just being unreasonable,” Angel rejoined.

“No,” Buffy fumed. “In fact, I am tired of being the only reasonable one.” As if on cue, Samantha strolled through the front door, looking freshly beautiful as always. “Samantha wait,” Buffy said loudly.

“What are you talking about, Buffy?” Angel asked warily.

“I’m going to a party tomorrow night so don’t call,” Buffy huffed. “And since Samantha shouldn’t be punished when Joey was the one that misbehaved, I’m taking her shopping tonight. How much did Joey spend?”

“Why?” Angel asked quietly. He could feel the storm of his wife’s temper coming through the phone and although she had been angry with him before about spoiling the girls and business trips away, he felt a shiver go through his gut. It didn’t have a damn thing to do with a college party or money.

“Because Samantha is spending twice as much,” she barked. Her blazing hazel eyes met those of her daughter’s widened in shock. “She deserves her good behavior to be reinforced,” Buffy continued angrily. “You keep Joey in the hotel tomorrow. If she so much as goes to McDonald’s by herself you’re sleeping on the couch.”

***

It was late when Samantha and Buffy finally made their way home. Buffy set her shopping bags down on the kitchen island and touched the blinking red button on the answering machine. As Joey’s voice began to bellow out of the little speaker, ranting about being held prisoner, Buffy turned the volume down so it was inaudible.

“You think Dad’s going to hold his ground?” Samantha asked cautiously.

“He better,” Buffy muttered. She knew that statistically speaking, it was a toss-up. While Angel could be one of the most intimidating, harsh men she’d ever met, his little girls never got to see that side. With them, he was a complete marshmallow. Even with Joey, who was by far the more difficult of the two.

***

“Well, when will you be home?” Buffy asked. Samantha had just called to let her know that an emergency school board meeting had been called. As president of the student body, Samantha had to attend.

“Late, mom. I don’t know. The last one ran until two in the morning.”

“Well, okay,” Buffy said, “but you take your cell phone. Call me on mine if you need anything.”

“Will do. Later.”

Buffy hung up the phone and looked down at the outfits spread across her bedspread. She couldn’t decide what to wear to the party. On one hand, she didn’t want to look like some sad old woman trying to hang out with kids half her age, and on the other, she didn’t feel like looking like anyone’s mother either. Sadly, her closet was lacking in club wear. When she and Angel had a free night, which was rare, they usually preferred to spend it together. In bed. So while she had plenty of attire for those kinds of nights, none of it could be worn outside the bedroom, much less outside the house.

She tried on outfit after outfit, finally settling on a black spaghetti strap tanktop that played up her nicely toned arms and cleavage, a long gauzy gray skirt and strappy black sandals. It was playful without seeming slutty and didn’t make her feel either like a child or an old crone.

Just as she was finishing up the final touches, her doorbell rang and she scurried down the stairs to answer it. Expecting Justine, she smiled brightly, only to have her smile fall away when she saw Lindsey. He looked damn good leaning casually against her doorjamb with his jacket thrown over his shoulder. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously and his full mouth quirked in a crooked smile.

“Evenin’,” he said, raking his eyes over her body hungrily.

“What are you doing here?” Buffy whispered in frustration. She looked around to see if any neighbors were watching.

“Justine had a last minute thing. She asked me to come pick you up instead,” Lindsey answered, standing up straight but moving casually and almost sensually slow.

“Yeah right,” Buffy said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “Do you have any idea what this looks like? I have neighbors. And I guess you already know that my husband isn’t here.”

“He isn’t?” Lindsey said in mock surprise. “Well damn, I wanted to size up the competition. Guess I’ll just have to take you out and party your sexy little legs off anyway.”

“He isn’t competition. He’s my husband. He has no competition.”

“Course not, darlin’,” he drawled.

Irritated, Buffy grabbed her jacket and followed Lindsey out to the car. She reluctantly allowed him to open the door for her. Trying to make the best of the situation, Buffy pushed her anger aside and made chitchat with Lindsey. It was easy to do. He was a good conversationalist. Before long, the indiscretion was forgotten.

They pulled up in front of one of the trendy little Mexican restaurants not far from campus. Buffy looked at Lindsey curiously. “Slight detour,” he said. “The girls wanted to meet here for appetizers and drinks before Virginia’s party.”

Following him inside, Buffy looked at the brightly colored sombreros tacked to the walls. Before long, they were being led upstairs to the open patio where Amy, Anya, Justine and Graham were seated at a large table. It was early October and the air was somewhat brisk, but not uncomfortable. Lindsey ordered another pitcher of margaritas and sangrias along with chips and salsa.

Before long, the pitchers were empty and had been replaced by more. Buffy had never been a big drinker and the three sangrias were enough to make her very giggly. The conversation around the table was bawdy to the point of obscene and had Buffy not been drinking, she would definitely been uncomfortable.

“Gods, what’s it like?” Anya asked, eyeing Buffy speculatively.

“Huh?” Buffy asked, caught scooping a chip and salsa into her mouth. She quickly chewed. “What?”

“Being married to the same person for that long. I mean, sex with the same person. Don’t you miss dating?”

Buffy shrugged, smiling. “Angel’s the only person I’ve ever had sex with,” she answered easily.

Justine, Amy and Anya gaped at her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Buffy shook her head. “Nope. Just Angel. I mean, it’s not like I had a lot of time to date. I got pregnant either the first or second time I had sex. Lucky me.”

Across the table, Graham just looked at her. “Wow,” he said, obviously shocked.

“Don’t you wonder what you’re missing?” Amy pressed. “I mean, don’t you want to know what it’s like to have sex with someone else?”

“Honestly?” Buffy asked. “No.” She shook her head. “I mean, well, sure there’s some curiosity, but it’s not like I’m not satisfied. I have a lot of issues with my husband, but none of them revolve around the bedroom. That aspect of our marriage has always been very, very good.”

Amy laughed. “Go, Buffy,” she said, slapping her on the shoulder.

Lindsey smiled tightly, masking his discomfort. He didn’t want to know that Buffy still had a fabulous sex life with her husband. He just wanted to know how he could get closer. Looking at his watch, he said, “Well, ladies, it’s about time.”

Everyone agreed and they paid the check and headed for their cars. Buffy was swaying and was forced to hold on to Lindsey’s arm. Virginia’s party was in full swing by the time they arrived. Buffy was aware that Virginia’s family was very wealthy, from the old money side of reality, and Virginia’s lavish home announced that fact. Everything was understated and sophisticated while being incredibly expensive at the same time.

Buffy had seen college parties and been to several of them while she was in school, but this was her first Law School party. She wasn’t entirely sure if everyone was less like a party animal and more like a dance club because Virginia’s home was so nice or that they all fancied themselves more sophisticated.

She leaned on Lindsey and allowed him to guide her around the party, took the drink he handed her and danced with him when he nudged her out on the floor. After all, she wanted to dance. He pulled her in close but her third drink had made her freer than she was sober. She wasn’t used being on her guard. Every time she had ever been tipsy she’d been with Angel, so when Lindsey pressed their bodies together she allowed it and when his lips brushed the side of her neck she shuddered in delight.

By her fifth drink, Buffy was well past tipsy and sailed closer to intoxicated. She felt irresponsible and wild…and free. She never had time to party and act crazy when she was younger. She was changing diapers and doing her husband’s laundry when everyone else was out misbehaving. A small twinge of guilt floated through her clouded mind as she realized that she wanted to be the one to have fun for once.

In the wee morning hours, Buffy found herself snuggled in an oversized chair with Lindsey and laughing hysterically with her friends. Tears peaked at the corner of her eyes as she giggled uncontrollably at Anya’s Man Policy, which included a list of sexual acts that were illegal in most states.

Buffy choked on her laughter as Lindsey’s hand moved just under her right breast. He caressed the tender underside with his thumb, keeping the movements slow and soothing. Much to her embarrassment, both of her nipples hardened immediately. She swallowed a gasp as she realized that she was aroused by him.

“Are you going to try and take advantage of me?” Buffy whispered in a slurred voice, “Cause Angel’ll kill you.”

“I don’t take advantage of drunk women,” Lindsey whispered against the shell of her ear. He was close enough to her that she could feel his lips moving. “That doesn’t mean I won’t have you in my bed very soon.”

“Angel,” she slurred again, scooting away. “Married to Angel.”

“I’ll have you, Buffy, and sooner than you think,” he said in a low, soothing voice.

“Don’t be stupid,” Buffy whimpered, suddenly more aware of how his body pressed against hers. She moved toward the edge of the chair and repeated. “I’m married.”

“I know exactly what you are,” he answered.


	3. Chapter 3

Buffy was starting to sober up by the time Lindsey's car was approaching the house. Full awareness hadn't returned yet, but she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She'd done some very stupid things.

The car hadn't even come to a complete stop before she had the door open and was running for the house. Ever the consummate chess player, Lindsey let her go without a word, waiting until she was safely inside before he pulled out of the driveway.

Buffy woke the next morning with a pounding headache. Her mouth tasted like she'd spent the evening licking an ashtray and she barely made it to the bathroom before she vomited the meager contents of her stomach. By noon, she was vaguely human, though she was creeping around the house in her bathrobe, avoiding Samantha's pointed looks. She took a shower, but she couldn't look at herself in the mirror.

What had she done? Buffy cringed at the mere thought. She'd gone out with Lindsey, gotten extremely drunk, let him grind against her and cuddle with her. She was a married woman!

But even as Buffy berated herself for her actions, she couldn't deny that she'd had fun. Touching Lindsey was a rush. A very bad, forbidden rush, but a rush nonetheless. He was so young and handsome and charming. Touching him was all sparkly and new. Sure, Angel's touch got her hot like no other, but she had a whole train full of baggage with Angel. Buffy knew it was stupid. Undoubtedly Lindsey had his own baggage, but at least she wasn't privy to it. From where she stood, he could look perfect because she wasn't forced to dig beneath the surface. With Angel, she knew everything there was to know about him, the good, the bad, the ugly, the sexy as hell. Dammit, Angel drove her insane, but she loved him beyond measure. He was her lover, her other-half, her perfect complement. And yet, she'd let Lindsey touch her. Buffy groaned loudly, burying her head in her pillow.

By the time Angel and Joey got home in the late afternoon, Buffy had managed to be downstairs for a while instead of glued to her bed and had even eaten a couple of pieces of dry toast. She ignored the fact that she and Samantha hadn’t spoken all day. She had no interest in answering any questions that her daughter might have about why she was so hung over. The idea of being drunk was suddenly connected with Lindsey’s face and she felt herself flushing with guilt again.

Joey was the first one through the door, hauling her backpack with her and stomping. She spied her mother on the couch and practically snarled at her. “Thanks a lot for ruining our trip to San Francisco,” she snapped. “Daddy wouldn’t let me do a fucking thing and thanks to you he was in a bad mood for half the time we were there.”

“It wasn’t a vacation, Josephine,” Buffy said, trying to keep her voice even. “You are still grounded no matter where you are.”

“I hate you,” Joey shouted. “You are such a fucking bitch!”

“Language!” Buffy tersely responded and gaped when Angel came into the house. He looked furious. He sized her up briefly and then turned back to his daughter, who he had gripped on the upper arm and turned to face him.

“You are angry with your mother,” Angel said quietly. “I understand that, but you will apologize right now for speaking that way to her and I will never, ever hear you say something so hurtful to her again. Do you understand?”

“Daddy-“

“Do you understand me?” he repeated very slowly.

“Yes,” she whispered back. Glancing over, she muttered, “Sorry, Mom.”

Without waiting for a response, she ran upstairs, taking them two a time and seconds later her bedroom door slammed so hard Buffy thought the ceiling was going to tumble into the living room. Angel left his bag sitting in the hall and shut the door behind him, before walking into the living room to look over his wife. He loomed over her with his arms across his chest and glared for a second.

“You’re hung over,” he announced.

“I drank too much last night,” she answered quietly. She swallowed a needed breath of air and felt guilt for her actions swamp over her again. She loved Angel, truly, almost desperately some days. There was no excuse for what happened with Lindsey.

“I got an interesting call from Wesley before we boarded the plane this afternoon,” Angel said, still standing over her. His eyes seemed to be growing darker with every second. “He’s been seeing Virginia on and off for the last year, so naturally he was at your little party last night.”

“R-really?” Buffy stuttered. It took every ounce of will power to keep her eyes on his face and to hide the wild panic that filled her. Her heart was stampeding in her chest.

“Yes,” Angel growled. “Please tell me that the gorgeous blonde in a skimpy little outfit he saw wasn’t you.”

“Angel,” Buffy whimpered, scooted further into the couch as if it could make her disappear.

“Please tell me that you weren’t the woman who was drunk off her ass and who apparently came and went with a man that is not me.” His voice was dangerously low and predatory as he looked over her. Even his anger couldn’t hide the hurt in his eyes and he finally sat down on the couch next to her, running a hand through his hair.

“I didn’t do anything with him, Angel,” she pleaded. “I didn’t cheat on you.”

“Getting drunk with another man and performing a mating ritual that apparently serves as dancing isn’t cheating on me?” he asked in a rasping voice.

“I love you,” she said, reaching out to touch him. He pulled back as if her touch would burn him and rose from the couch.

“I love you too, Buffy,” he answered. “I can’t believe that was you last night. I told Wes he was obviously mistaken because my wife wouldn’t have acted that way.”

“I…I just wanted to have a good time, that’s all,” Buffy said, tears filling her eyes. “I just wanted to be carefree for one night. I didn’t do anything with Lindsey.”

“Lindsey,” Angel repeated, narrowing his eyes. “Well, I hope you had a great time being fucking carefree.”

***

By the time Buffy mustered enough courage to venture into the bedroom, Angel was already in bed. All the lights were off and he was on his side, facing away from her. Quietly as possible, Buffy slipped beneath the covers next to him. She could tell from the rigid line of his shoulder and his short breaths that he wasn't asleep, but he was pretending - pretending so he didn't have to look at her or talk to her or think about the fact that she'd made a fool of herself with Lindsey.

Buffy curled up into a little ball, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't allow herself to sob. She didn't want Angel to know that she was crying. She was afraid he would think she was trying to manipulate him into feeling sorry for her.

She was awake for a long time, watching his silhouette. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally fell asleep, unconsciously shifting onto his back to get more comfortable. Swamped with guilt, but needing comfort, Buffy inched nearer and nearer to him until she was pressed against his side. In his sleep, Angel sighed, turning so he could wrap his arms around her and pull her close.

***

Buffy had never been a morning person, so it wasn't a shock that she had slept later than Angel. But his absence from their bed on a lazy Sunday morning pulled at her heart. How was she ever going to gain his forgiveness? Buffy was no longer hung over, but her heart was so heavy that it was almost as physically painful.

Angel was sitting at the kitchen table when she finally went downstairs, reading the paper and drinking his coffee. He did not glance up as she entered the room, but she saw the muscles in his jaw flex. Oh, he was mad.

"Angel," she ventured quietly.

"I am not ready to talk to you yet, Buffy," he said coldly, turning the page of the paper.

She nodded, wrapping her arms around her own waist. She deserved whatever he could dole out.

***

Buffy had a constant headache for the next week. Between Joey's incessant bitching about being grounded, Angel's icy cold shoulder and upcoming midterms, she was so frazzled she hardly knew where to turn. Her school matters also weren't helped by the fact that aside from attending class, Buffy did not do anything else with her classmates. Lindsey she refused to even look at, and she backed out of all the group study sessions, making sure she was home each night.

Little by little, Angel thawed. He was undoubtedly angry with her, but her guilt was genuine and he had to know nothing significant happened with Lindsey. By Wednesday night, he hadn't even fallen asleep yet when he spooned against her back, burying his face in her hair. Friday morning he actually said hello to her. Saturday afternoon when he returned home from work to find Buffy and the girls watching a movie, he wordlessly picked Buffy out of the overstuffed chair before sitting down, depositing her in his lap and proceeding to eat her entire bowl of popcorn. Sunday morning, when he reached for her, Buffy giggled in relief. Hours later, he brushed the sweat-slicked hair back from her face and swore vehemently, "I love you, Buffy, forever."

***

Monday morning after her first class, Buffy went to the garage to see if she could catch Angel. Even though he spent the majority of his time managing the new developments, Roarke Autobody was still his first love. He worked alongside his employees regularly. He liked the physical labor and enjoyed getting his hands in the thick of the matter.

The day was bright and lovely and Buffy was in a terrific mood. She was so overwhelmed with happiness that she had avoided losing Angel and she just wanted to bask in his presence for a little while before she went back to classes.

She walked into the garage and saw it was deserted. No one was working. She smiled to herself. She knew they all liked to sit around in the late morning and have coffee together from time to time. She approached the office door and immediately bristled as she heard Faith’s voice coming from inside. Shaking off her negative attitude took a second and she stood behind the door. Faith was an employee and nothing else. Buffy needed to remember that.

“I never got a chance to thank you for coming to dinner with the Nabbits.” Angel’s deep voice rumbled.

“No problem,” Faith answered in her low throaty voice. “You needed a hot chick to make that nerd boy stumble all over himself.”

Buffy veins turned to ice as she pushed open the door and eyed Angel furiously. All the happy, floaty thoughts she had mustered disappeared in an instant. Faith was sitting on the corner of Angel’s desk. As always she had enough cleavage showing to leave nothing to the imagination. Buffy wasn’t even sure how she got under cars with her skin tight clothing on, but somehow she managed.

“Faith,” Buffy greeted coolly.

“B,” Faith said with a nod. Turning to Angel she said lightly, “Well, I guess break time’s over.”

Faith barely got through the door when Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, cocked out her hip and planted a severe glare on Angel before speaking through gritted teeth. “You tortured me for a week or more for going out with Lindsey! You wouldn’t even speak to me or touch me. I went through hell and you…YOU went out with Faith!”

“It was a business dinner,” Angel said, rising to his feet. “It’s not the same thing.”

“No!” she shouted, “It’s worse! You know how I feel about her being alone with you after the times she tried to seduce you. I can’t believe you would do that to me! I was in HELL and you had the audacity to treat me like I was not even worth a discussion!”

"I had dinner with Faith," Angel shouted. "After you repeatedly turned me down for your study group with LINDSEY!" He was furious, breathing hard as he glared at her. "I needed a fourth person to round out the dinner, Faith was willing and able. She did it as a favor, nothing more. This is in no way on par with you getting drunk and going to a college party where you let some … some … BOY paw you like you were a two bit whore!"

Buffy stared at him in open shock. Angel straightened his spine and stuck his chin out, posturing in exactly the same manner Joey did when she knew she'd stepped over the line.

"A whore?" Buffy repeated in a near whisper. "That's what you think of me?"

Angel's mask of indifference vanished in a second and he quickly crossed the distance to her, his hands held out in a placating gesture. "That's not what I meant," he quickly amended.

Buffy jumped back, hissing at him in blinding fury. "Don't touch me!"

Angel paced around the room in a tight circle, dragging his hand through his hair. "Buffy, you just … you just have to understand. Do you have any idea what it's like for me? You have all these new friends, these *young* new friends. This Lindsey kid is what? A dozen years younger than you?"

"So what," Buffy spat. "I can't be friends with someone younger? I'm so old and decrepit that I couldn't possibly have anything in common with someone so vibrant and young?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Angel said seriously. His face fell. "Buffy, it's just that … do you have any idea how this feels for me? That you would prefer the company of some stupid, hotheaded kid to me? What do you think people think when they see you with Lindsey, even if you are just friends?"

"I don't know," Buffy countered angrily, "that we're classmates, that we like the same jokes, that we're FRIENDS!" She glared at him for several more moments and then it all clicked into place. She felt bile rise at the back of her throat as she was swamped with disgust.

"Is that what this is about?" she demanded. "Has your precious male pride been wounded because I'm friends with a younger man?"

Angel crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw set hard. But he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Oh. My. Gawd!" Buffy yelled angrily. "That's it. You're afraid that people think maybe you're not doing your husbandly duty so some kid is stepping in to fill the void."

Angel snorted. "Yeah, well, is it really such a stretch?" he asked her pointedly. "He is young and different. He's a brain and goes to law school with you. You can have conversations with him that you could never have with me. He's from old money."

Buffy shook her head. "You're not turning this around on me," she said. "I'm fairly sure that by the mere fact that I'm *married* to you, that I gave you two *children* that people can figure out whose company I prefer. So I'm friends with Lindsey. So what? You made me feel like shit for dancing with him and all the while you'd taken that lying, cheating, skanky little whore to dinner with your business partner without so much as mentioning it to me."

"Faith is my friend," Angel said tightly. "Nothing more."

"Yeah," Buffy said with a snort. "Your friend with the blow-up doll body who it just so happens has been trying to nail you for the last fifteen years. Your friend who shares all your stupid little jokes, who knows how to fix cars, who can drink any Hell's Angel under the table down at your dad's bar. The friend that I had specifically asked you not to see."

Angel growled in frustration. "What do you want me to do?" he demanded.

Buffy stared at him defiantly. Impetuously, it came to her. "Fire Faith," she said flatly.

Angel stared at his wife for a moment and then shook his head in exasperation. "I can't fire Faith," he said. "She runs the fucking shop. Without her, Roarke Autobody would never turn a profit."

"I don't care," Buffy said coldly. "With Roarke Enterprises taking over California, Roarke Autobody doesn't need to turn a profit. Fire her."

Angel looked at his wife, convinced she was having some sort of meltdown and that everything would be better when she calmed down. "I won’t fire Faith," he informed her shortly.

"Then I want you out of my house," Buffy told him, tears glittering in her eyes.

Angel stared at her dumbly. "What?"

"You heard me," she said. "Out. Today. And I'm not kidding."

He tried to reach for her, but she twisted out of his grip, snarling like a thing possessed. He quickly released her, but could do nothing more than stare at her back as she stomped out of the shop.

***

Angel thought a lot about the week that he didn’t speak to Buffy. He thought about the many times he hung around with Faith when he knew Buffy would not approve. It had been difficult to remain angry with her so finally he just gave it up. Seeing the sorrow on her face was more than he could stand, but this…this was so much worse. In the years they had been together, she had never kicked him out, never actually made him sleep on the couch even when she threatened it and never for any reason flung herself away from his touch like that.

Fear twisted in the pit of his stomach when he went home late that evening. He worked hard all day and even booted Faith off the last car and sent her home just so he could absorb in the task. Nothing worked.

He stepped into the house tentatively and looked around. Joey and Samantha were sitting primly on the couch side by side. The television was off, there were no books, no conversation. They simply sat there.

“Where’s your mother?” he asked quietly. He could tell by their faces that his fear was not in vain. Something was very, very wrong.

“She’s upstairs,” Samantha said quietly.

“She’s packing your stuff,” Joey added. Simultaneously, she jumped off the couch and burst into tears. “She’s not really making you move out, is she, Daddy?”

He kissed her forehead lightly and then pulled away, saying nothing. What could he possibly say to his daughters? He didn’t even truly understand why she was kicking him out. He headed up the stairs and approached the bedroom door cautiously. Three suitcases stood in a neat row by the door and she stood there with her arms crossed, waiting.

“Baby, I know you’re angry with me,” Angel said quietly, “but we can work this out. Let’s just sit down and talk about it.”

”I want you out,” she said. Her face was blotchy and her eyes were red and swollen, announcing that she had spent a great deal of the time crying. Her voice was hoarse and if that wasn’t enough, it seemed like her entire body was shaking.

“Please don’t do this,” Angel pleaded quietly. “I love you, Buffy. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You lied to me,” she said, struggling not to cry. “You called me…you called me a whore. Get out of my house.”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, daring to take a step closer.

“GET OUT!” she raged, tossing the first thing she could find at him, which happened to be the alarm clock. “Get the hell out of my house, Angel!”

“I’m your husband, Buffy!” he shouted back, ducking the alarm clock. It barely missed his temple and crashed into the wall in the hallway. Desperate to stop the inevitable, he kept talking, “We have children! Think about this, Buffy. You don’t want me to leave.”

“Get out, Angel,” Buffy growled, “or I’ll have you thrown out.”

Giving into her wishes was the last thing Angel wanted to do, but he knew it would be for the best. If her winging the alarm clock was any indication, she was far too angry to attempt any rational discussion of the situation. And truth be told, Angel couldn’t stand the thought of his daughters hearing their argument, seeing their anger. As much as it tore him to pieces, he knew he had to leave or both he and Buffy were going to do some things they would really regret.

Morosely, Angel took the suitcases downstairs. As soon as she saw him, Joey burst into hysterical sobs. Angel had been prepared for Joey’s reaction, but at the sight of Samantha, his ever-composed little princess with tears streaming down her cheeks, his heart broke. Taking great care to keep his voice even and his expression neutral, Angel set down the suitcases and beckoned his daughters closer. They both latched on to him, sobbing and Angel did his best to soothe them, kissing the tops of their heads.

“Everything will be fine,” he told them. “Don’t worry about it. Me and your mom will get this all worked out.”

Joey sniffled loudly and looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Where are you going?”

Angel stared at her blankly for a moment. He had no idea where he was going actually. “I’m not sure,” he said. When that set off another crying fit, Angel shushed her. “It’s okay,” he said reassuringly. “I have my cell phone with me, call me if you need anything.”

As he pulled out of the driveway, watching his daughters who were standing in the open doorway, a tear trickled down Angel’s own cheek. He quickly tried to shake it off. This was just a fluke. Buffy was irrationally upset. Tomorrow he would talk to her and they would get everything sorted out. He wouldn’t even have to unpack.


	4. Chapter 4

The first week was absolute hell. Buffy had been prepared for Joey’s rebellion. Lashing out was how her younger daughter reacted to any sort of stress, it only stood to reason that in this situation, she would be a hundred times worse. And she was. Three times, Buffy was forced to have a very stilted phone conversation with Angel, informing him that he had to come over to the house and make sure Joey went to school. As far as Buffy knew, Joey had gone to school, but Buffy took great care to make sure she wasn’t present when Angel arrived. If he called and wanted to talk to her about one of the girls, Buffy grit her teeth and forced herself to be civil, if he wanted to try and guilt her into letting him back into the house, she merely hung up the phone.

Samantha’s reaction, however, had come as a shock. Samantha was always composed, impossible to ruffle and exceedingly headstrong. Buffy had expected her to take her father’s relocation in stride the way she took everything else. She didn’t. Samantha didn’t act out the way Joey did, but she had her own ways of expressing her unhappiness. The entire week after Angel moved out, Samantha did not utter a single word to her mother, did not shoot a single glance in her direction.

Buffy had just spent Saturday morning being treated like she didn’t exist when the doorbell rang. She opened the door to find Willow on the other side. “Will,” Buffy said, so startled she almost dropped her coffee cup. “What are you doing here?”

Willow smiled guiltily. “Angel called me,” she said.

Buffy’s smile faded. “He had the nerve to call my best friend and ask you come all the way from Seattle to see me?” she fumed.

Stepping inside the house, Willow frowned at her. “Did you really kick Angel out?” she asked quietly.

Buffy flushed. She glanced into the living room where her daughters were still pretending they lived alone in the house. “Let’s go upstairs,” she said to Willow.

They were quiet as they walked upstairs to Buffy’s bedroom, closed the door and sat down on the bed. Buffy’s hands were clasped tightly around her coffee cup. “I kicked him out,” she said seriously.

“Buffy, what happened?” Willow asked, slightly frantic. “I mean, I know you and Angel have had some rough spots, but I never expected this. Why didn’t you call me?”

Buffy stared at her hands. Of course, Willow had a point. How could she do something so momentous without even mentioning it to her best friend?

Willow cleared her throat quietly. “Angel says you have a lot of new friends,” she offered.

“Classmates from law school,” Buffy said offhandedly.

“He said that you’ve been spending a lot of time with them, one in particular.”

Buffy’s head snapped up and she looked at Willow. But Willow’s expression wasn’t judgmental. It was confused and slightly hurt. Buffy laughed punchily. “Yeah,” she said derisively, “my new friends. Did he mention his old friends?”

“Old friends?” Willow repeated, confused.

“Faith,” Buffy said, spitting out the woman’s name like a curse.

Willow nodded solemnly. She well remembered their junior year in college when Angel hired a new mechanic at the shop. Like Angel, Faith had a rough life. They had a lot of similar experiences, a lot of things to commiserate about. While Angel insisted he saw Faith as only a friend, Faith wasn’t so noble. She went out of her way to try and snag Angel, doing everything she could to undermine Buffy and Angel’s marriage. Somehow, Buffy and Angel managed to get through that time, but it was always a touchy subject.

“I went out with a friend from law school, Lindsey. Had a few too many drinks, went dancing ... Angel didn’t speak to me for a week. He called me a whore – “ Buffy clamped her mouth shut, choking back a sob. “And all the while, he’d taken Faith to this damn dinner meeting without even mentioning it to me. It’s like if he doesn’t think it’s a big deal, it isn’t. He has no respect for my opinion on the matter. He tells me I’m being paranoid, but when the situation is reversed, he makes me feel like trash.” She buried her face in her hands, sobbing.

“Oh, Buffy,” Willow said, pulling her close.

***

“Come on.”

Joey looked up sullenly at her older sister’s very determined countenance. “Why? Where are we going?”

“To find Daddy,” Samantha said evenly, her high heels clicking on the floor as she headed for the front door. Joey fell in line behind her sister and they both went through the front door without so much as a shout in their mother’s direction to let her know they were leaving.

Samantha slid behind the wheel of her mother’s SUV and carefully checked all of her mirrors, before buckling herself in and checking that Joey had done the same. Joey was sure ten fucking minutes had passed before her sister finally backed from the driveway.

Their father wasn’t at the garage, which was the first place they checked. He wasn’t at Grandpa’s bar, so they headed directly for Grandpa’s house. Both girls groaned in unison when Samantha announced that was their next destination. Despite the fact that their grandfather had never bothered to move from the hovel trailer he lived in, he married a woman who was the same age as their parents. They stood tensely side by side and knocked on the door, bracing themselves for whatever came next.

“Girls!” Harmony, their un-grandmother squealed when she opened the door. Samantha eyed the woman her grandfather had married with one severe sweep. Harmony had her long blonde hair hanging freely down her back with no discernable style. Samantha, whose golden locks never dared to stray from her rule, was tempted to snarl. Apparently at one time Harmony had been in her mother’s inner sanctum and had lived by fashion laws. Samantha could see some of that in Harmony as much as it pained her to admit it. Harmony’s dress was only slightly out of style, but it was designed for a much younger woman.

“I’m so excited to see you! We have so much to talk about,” Harmony panted at her step-granddaughters.

“Is our father here?” Samantha asked politely but briskly. Joey opened her mouth to add a comment but Samantha squeezed her arm gently and shot her a glare that made her quiet instantly.

“He’s in the living room watching television with Jake,” Harmony said, waving off their question. “We should go do stuff! I never get to see you.”

“We’re really in a bit of a hurry,” Samantha answered in the same brisk tone. “Maybe some other time.” They brushed past her and went into the living room which was about four steps from the front door. Their Grandpa and their father sat side by side engrossed in some sort of motorcycle race. They both were nursing beer already and from the look of the scattered bottles around the trailer, they had been at it for quite some time. Angel was slumped in a pair of dirty jeans and a wife beater.

“Daddy!” they both gasped.

“Dammit Harmony,” Angel slurred drunkenly. “I told you I didn’t wanta see anyone.”

Joey gaped at her father, tears welling in her eyes. Samantha merely crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

“Don you take ‘at tone with me,” Angel slurred, pointing a finger at Samantha, totally missing the fact that she hadn’t actually spoken yet. “Ya look just like yer mother.”

Turning, Samantha looked at Joey. “Get his suitcases and put them in the Jeep,” she ordered. Joey opened her mouth to protest and Samantha just snapped, “Now!”

Turning back to Angel, Samantha summarily pronounced, “You’re a mess, Daddy.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he rejoined sullenly.

From his recliner, Angel’s father watched Joey lug the suitcases out the door. “I guess you’re leaving,” he said, trying to hide a smile. Jake Roarke was mean to everybody, it was just his nature, but even though he was overly gruff with his granddaughters, he adored them completely. Both those girls had some fire in their veins. He knew his son didn’t stand a chance.

“Get up, Daddy,” Samantha ordered. “We’re leaving.”

Angel opened his mouth to argue with his daughter but fell silent. He’d seen that look on her face before and he knew there was no use fighting. Samantha usually made a concerted effort to go along and get along, but when she finally put her foot down, there was no changing her mind. And besides, while he appreciated the fact that his dad let him crash in the spare room, he really wanted to get away. Harmony’s grating voice was about to drive him insane. With a groan, he pushed himself to his feet and followed his daughter out the door.

Two hours later, Angel was finally sober and nursing a very serious headache. He was sprawled across the Jeep’s back seat as Samantha and Joey sat in the front arguing over apartments in the classified ads.

“Daddy, wait here, Joey and I are going to go look at this place,” Samantha called.

Angel couldn’t do anything more than grunt in her general direction, wincing as the car doors slammed.

Joey followed Samantha sullenly up to the apartment complex’s office. She was scowling like mad as the leasing agent walked them through one of the display apartments. Smiling politely to the leasing agent, Samantha grabbed her sister’s arm and dragged her inside one of the bedrooms. “What’s your problem?” Samantha demanded.

“Daddy doesn’t need an apartment,” Joey seethed. “He needs to move back home.”

Samantha rolled her eyes. “Think of the big picture,” she said.

“What big picture?” Joey demanded in exasperation. “Mom kicked Dad out of the house and now you’re helping him find an apartment. You should be helping him get back in the house.”

“He and Mom are going to get back together,” Samantha informed her sister flatly. “But in the mean time, he needs a place to stay. Mom’s not going to want him back if all he does is go over to Grandpa’s and get drunk. He needs to be appealing, independent. We need to show mom what she’s missing.”

“Oh,” Joey said, struggling to follow the logic.

“And besides,” Samantha said, “when he moves back in, I get the apartment.”

“Hey,” Joey said, her eyes lighting up. “An apartment would be cool.”

“I said ‘I’, not ‘we’,” Samantha countered.

“If you want my help, it’s we,” Joey said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Samantha seemed to consider it for a moment before snarling, “Fine.” She looked around the apartment. “Daddy can’t stay here,” she pronounced. “There’s no natural light.”

It took most of the day to find a place that was adequate for their father and more than adequate for the girls’ future use. They finally found what they were looking for on the richer side of town. The apartment was absolutely stunning with newly refinished hardwood floors, three large bedrooms and a fireplace. A set of sliding glass doors led to a veranda perfect for getting uninterrupted rays. There were two full bathrooms, one off the Master Bedroom and another in the hallway. The apartment was perfect and they managed to talk the leasing office into letting them have it right away. The girls were thrilled, and stunned when Angel was not.

“Daddy, maybe you didn’t notice the crown molding,” Samantha urged gently. “This place is perfect.”

“Honey, the rent is ridiculously high,” Angel said, trying to keep the groan from his voice when every syllable made his head pound a little harder. “And I don’t want crown molding or natural light. I want a bachelor pad. I want stained carpet. I need a veranda-free environment.”

“Sorry, Daddy, but we can’t always get our way,” Samantha quipped, pushing the paperwork toward him. “You need natural light and a beautiful spacious place. I’ll not have my father living in some place like that.”

“Does your mother know about this?” He asked eyeing them curiously.

“Are you fucking kidding?” Joey said with a laugh, eyes glittering with rebellious fun. “She doesn’t even know we took the Jeep!”

Angel’s eyes narrowed and Samantha elbowed her sister. “I beg you not to help me.”

Samantha brightened her best smile for her father and pulled the lease smoothly from his hands before handing it to the wary leasing agent. The guy knew that Angel Roarke was a very wealthy man, but he looked like he belonged in a different part of town.

“Daddy, do you want to come along to buy your furniture?” Samantha asked brightly.

“You bet. I’m not leaving you alone to get me some frou-frou couch. I want a bachelor couch and a bachelor bed,” Angel growled.

Samantha clucked her tongue disapprovingly at her father. “You’re not a bachelor, Daddy.”

Joey nearly choked to death to keep from laughing. She always thought she was the bad one, trying to pull the wool over her parents’ eyes, but Samantha steamrolled her father like nothing she had ever seen. It was absolutely terrific.

***

Angel turned in a slow circle, taking in his new, hopefully temporary, home. While agonizingly hung over in the back of his estranged wife’s SUV, Angel had warmed somewhat to the idea of having a place of his own. When Buffy had first booted him out of the house, his reaction had been disbelief. When it finally did sink in that she was serious, he’d been overwhelmed by fear like he’d never known. Buffy was his life, his love, his entire world. If she didn’t want him, what good was he?

But it wasn’t in Angel’s nature to wallow in his misery, so he’d become defiant. If Buffy didn’t want him, then fine. He’d just destroy himself and see how she liked that. Granted, getting drunk and hanging out at his Dad’s trailer wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. And he was relieved by the time Samantha arrived and ordered him outside.

While he still would have preferred to go home to his own house, his own bed and his own wife, he was forced to consider the merits of having an apartment. Angel realized he’d never lived on his own, not counting the couple nights a month his Dad would kick him out and he had to crash with Oz or Spike. Nope. Angel had gone right from living with his Dad to living in Buffy’s basement. So the idea of having a place that was his, that could be a guy hangout was very novel.

As he lay there trying not to let his head explode from the pounding, he had visions of some dank little hole in the wall where the only working appliances were the microwave and the fridge. He had visions of all night poker games and having no fear in renting all the porn a man could watch.

Somehow his fantasy bachelor pad hadn’t had vaulted ceilings, skylights, natural hardwood floors and a membership to the onsite gym. He sighed in defeat looking at the tasteful, yet functional, furniture Samantha had picked out.

Of course, this was for the best. Samantha was right, if his baby girls were going to be staying with him at least part of the time, he couldn’t live in some rat infested apartment. And hopefully, he wouldn’t have to stay here long either.

***

Willow looked out the kitchen windows at the quickly darkening sky. “Are you worried about the girls?” she asked.

Buffy sighed. “No,” she said. “I’m sure they’re with their father. Samantha and Joey don’t do anything social together.”

“They’re angry with you,” Willow said. It was more of a statement than a question, but its intent was passed along. Willow was worried.

Buffy nodded as Willow turned to face her. Buffy’s took a deep breath and struggled not to cry as she looked mournfully at her best friend. “They think I’m this ogre who made their perfect father leave,” she choked out. “If you could have seen the look on his face when he called me a whore, Will, you would understand. I devoted my entire life to him and our children and all he does is work. He just wants to make money and then come home and be the good guy all the time.”

“It’s okay, Buffy,” Willow whispered, pulling her into a hug. “Everything is going be okay. You’ll see.”

“I don’t know how to live without him, Will,” she sobbed. She held on for dear life and poured her heart out, crying so hard her entire body shook. “And I’m so angry with him. I can’t stand it, Will. I can’t stand it.”

***

“Holy shit,” Joey whispered, her mouth dropped open in shock.

Samantha shushed her sister and watched in awe as her mother cried in her best friend’s arms. She had seen her mother upset and had even seen her eyes well with tears, but never in her entire life had she seen something so heartbreaking as what she had just witnessed. She only wished they had been close enough to make out the sobbed words her mother was speaking.

After a few minutes, Joey backed away and Samantha tiptoed after her. Joey went straight to the front door, opened it and slammed it closed again before shouting. “Mom?”

“We’re in here,” Willow called back, louder than necessary.

“When’s dinner?” Joey shouted back, still trying to shake off the image of her mother sobbing to so openly. “I’m fucking starving to death!”

“Language!” Buffy shouted back in a voice that was almost clear. Almost, but not quite.

Samantha took Joey’s hand in hers and squeezed it, her hazel eyes gleaming with challenge and hope. “We’re going to fix everything, Joe,” she whispered.

“You bet your candy ass we are,” Joey whispered back.


	5. Chapter 5

Buffy eyed her daughters warily as they picked at their pizza. Neither of them, not even Joey, the bottomless pit, seemed interested in the food. Buffy hadn’t even attempted, settling instead for yet another cup of coffee.

“Dad has an apartment,” Samantha offered quietly. “Off Crestwood. In that new development next to the park.”

Buffy couldn’t help it, despite her miserable mood, she laughed. Willow, Joey and Samantha all looked at her strangely. “Sorry,” she said, “but I know your father didn’t pick it out.”

“Daddy just needed some .. help,” Samantha replied carefully.

Buffy took a deep breath. “How was your father?” she asked quietly.

“Good,” Joey offered eagerly. “He looked good. I mean really good. We saw him at the shop at all these women were just swarming all over him. I think he might have started working out a lot more too – ouch!” Joey glared at her sister, nursing her sore shin.

“I see,” Buffy said suspiciously, knowing full well that of all the ways her husband coped with stress like this. Doubling his normal workout and flirting with customers weren’t in the rotation. Most likely, he’d been stinking drunk at his father’s trailer for the last week.

“He’s upset,” Samantha said quietly. “But I think he’s getting a little better.”

Buffy nodded solemnly, trying to ignore how much the thought of Angel being miserable tore her heart to pieces.

***

Hours later, Buffy and Willow sat together on the couch, both nursing a small snifter of brandy. “So, Lindsey,” Willow offered, “sounds like she’s not Angel’s favorite person.”

Buffy took a gulp, wincing as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. “*He* isn’t Angel’s favorite person,” she corrected.

Willow’s mouth made a perfect round ‘O’. “I see,” she said. Silence hung heavy in the air and Willow finally mustered the courage to ask, “Do you care about him?”

“About Angel?” Buffy asked, deliberately misunderstanding. “Of course, I care about him. He’s my husband.”

“I mean Lindsey,” Willow replied patiently.

Buffy winced guiltily. “He’s ... “ She trailed off, sighing loudly. “I don’t know what Lindsey is. A problem mostly.”

“Are you attracted to him?”

Buffy wouldn’t meet Willow’s gaze. “He’s an attractive man,” Buffy admitted. “He’s funny and smart. He’s a lot different from Angel. He’s spoiled, lazy when he wants to be. There’s a kind of coldness to him, something that makes you think he’s been hurt really bad in the past. He always plays it off.”

“And does this dark horse like you?”

Buffy blushed. “Lindsey’s pretty up front about what he wants from me.”

“And that would be ...”

“Sex,” Buffy answered honestly. “I don’t know if he wants anything else. I don’t know if Lindsey is capable of anything else. But there is definitely a physical attraction between us and he does his best to exploit it.”

“So I’m guessing Angel wasn’t being totally paranoid.”

Buffy frowned at her friend. “I have a ... flirtation ... with Lindsey. It’s harmless. I mean, yes, I danced with him and I spent an entire week beating myself up over it. But nothing happened.”

***

Angel wasn’t sleeping well - or at all actually. He tried to sleep at night only to remember that he wasn’t snuggled against Buffy as he had for the last eighteen years. Now that his daughters could find him, he couldn’t wallow in alcohol anymore to help him sleep, as much as he dearly wished he could. Instead, he picked up hours helping out his father at the bar at night just to kill time. After closing, he cleaned the place from top to bottom, spending whole nights making the floors gleam. He was pretty certain no one had mopped the floor there since his father bought the place.

Three o’clock in the morning found Angel in the onsite gym of his new apartment complex making friends with the 24 hour accommodations. He worked out until every muscle burned, until he could barely move and then he went back to his apartment and showered. Sometimes he could get an hour of sleep or so, but usually, he just missed his wife.

He couldn’t sit still or lay down for long. His arms ached from not being able to hold Buffy. He saw his daughters regularly since they loved his apartment so much and seemed to want to spy on him, but it wasn’t the same. He wanted to be in his house, making love to his wife and sleeping for more than a few hours a night.

The rest of his time was spent at the garage, fixing everything that he could possibly fix. The long days at the garage however, were also spent with Faith. He started getting nervous around her, thinking about Buffy walking in at any moment. It got to the point that when Faith spoke him, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on, Angel?” Faith demanded finally after days of being treated like a bad habit. “You’ve been treating me like you think I’m going to start picking people off or something. What gives?”

“This isn’t working,” Angel groaned. “Look, I’m sorry about this, Faith, but you’re fired.”

She stared at him incredulously. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she spat.

He frowned. “Look I don’t like this but – “

“But you’re pussy whipped,” Faith finished for him, a sneer on her face.

Angel nearly growled, advancing on Faith. “My wife kicked me out of my own goddamn house,” he yelled. “This isn’t a game, Faith, this is my family.”

She stared at him for a moment and then shrugged. “Fine,” she said, “I’m outta here.”

Watching her go, Angel was wracked with guilt. But as much loyalty as he felt toward Faith, he had to get Buffy back.

***

“Uh ... “ Angel looked dumbfounded at the bags of groceries sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Hello,” Samantha chirped cordially as she proceeded to unload what were obviously supplied for some large-scale get together, stocking the cabinets and refrigerators.

“Are we preparing for a siege?” Angel asked.

Turning around, Samantha frowned at her father. “It’s the Halloween party, Daddy. Remember, I told you about it.”

“I remember you *asked* me about it,” he said. “I also remember I said ‘no’.” She rolled at her eyes, obviously unconcerned with his refusal. “Samantha,” he continued, “I do not want thirty giggling girls in my apartment on Halloween night.”

“Daddy, I know you’re all prepared to brood and feel sorry for yourself or whatever, but it’s *Halloween*. Joey and I have a few friends who are supposed to come over and we never thought you’d actually say no, so we invited them first.”

She tapped one perfectly manicured fingernail against her lips thoughtfully. “I guess I can tell everyone to go to the house instead. I just thought you’d like company. I’m sure Mom’ll be fine with us having people over at the last minute. When she asks why, I’ll just tell her that you said-“

“Alright!” Angel groaned. “You’re treading on thin ice, Samantha. I know when I’m being manipulated.”

“I can’t believe you’d think that,” Samantha blustered in such a convincing tone, that Angel almost thought he was mistaken. He rolled his eyes. She was good but not that good.

“No alcohol,” Angel growled, ticking the rules off on his fingers as he went. “No boys. No drugs. And no one goes in my room.”

“Of course,” Samantha said, nodding her blonde head in agreement.

“Keep the noise level down so the neighbors don’t call the police,” he added seriously. “And make sure your sister is here *inside* the apartment all night long, understand?”

“Perfectly,” she sang out and rushed over to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re the best, Daddy.”

“Right,” he said, rolling his eyes.

***

Buffy giggled as Lindsey followed her inside the house. It was well past midnight and the house was empty. She could hardly believe she had gone out somewhere on Halloween. Every year she stayed home with her daughters and had parties or helped them with last minute costume preparations.

This year had been different. Sure, it felt a little odd, but at the same time it was liberating. The regular group from school met up for a party at McGee’s, their favorite club. There was a costume contest and lots of alcohol. Buffy had dressed up as a Brownie Cookie Girl ... well, okay, a naughty Brownie Cookie Girl. While the outfit was basically similar to the ones Samantha and Joey had worn as children, it was definitely tailored for an adult. Made from form fitting, slinky material, the dress clung to her curves. It was also low cut enough to flash generous amounts of cleavage. Buffy couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn something so blatantly sexy in public. While Angel had no issue with her wearing sexy clothes in private, he got decidedly territorial if she tried to leave the house in them.

Lindsey had dressed up as well. Buffy wasn’t sure what she thought of the pirate look, but she had to admit the hook had possibilities. They were both laughing and Buffy tried not to stumble as they finally made their way inside the house.

“Wait here,” Buffy said. “I have to go change into something more comfortable.”

Lindsey eyed her wolfishly. “Need any help?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t mean more comfortable like that,” she chastised. “I mean actually more comfortable. These shoes are killing my feet. Wait here.”

Buffy was humming to herself, dancing around her bedroom as she shed the Halloween costume in favor of an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats. Lindsey had invited himself over for bad horror movies and against her better judgment, she had relented, but if Lindsey thought he was going to get inside her cute little costume, he was sadly mistaken. She was just pulling her hair back in a loose ponytail when she heard Lindsey yelp her name. Quickly, she hurried down the stairs.

Buffy glared, crossing her arms over her chest as she realized that Angel had Lindsey cornered in the living room. Angel was rumpled and shirtless as if he had been sleeping, which, needless to say, was odd. She hurried across the room and pulled on her husband’s very cut and noticeably muscled arm.

“Angel, what the hell are you doing?” Buffy demanded, tugging on his arm until he turned to face her.

“What am I doing?” he growled, looming over her angrily. “What the fuck are you doing? What is *he* doing in *my* house with *my* wife?”

“Don’t you mean your *whore*?” she snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. She looked venomous and he took a step back.

“Baby…” he said, his voice just above a whisper. He had all but forgotten Lindsey’s presence.

“Why aren’t you at the apartment with the girls?” Buffy demanded, placing her hands on her hips. “You left them all alone there?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I left them alone there so I could try to sleep here. They’re squealing and giggling and running around in…Buffy, they’re barely wearing clothes. Three of them actually hit on me before I got out of there!”

“Well you’re going back right now,” she clipped. “They probably planned to get rid of you and then were going to have boys over. Samantha is dating a boy with a red sports car! Joey could be making out with some pierced thug! You have to go back right now!”

He looked so miserable, she almost felt bad for him. "Fine," he grumbled, clearly uneasy with the thoughts of some hoodlums molesting his little girls.

Buffy watched the play of muscles in his back as he walked over to the couch where he had obviously been sleeping and shrugged back into his shirt. Satisfied that he was indeed intending to leave, Buffy walked into the kitchen to get his mail. She returned to the living room just in time to see Angel smirk at Lindsey. Without waiting for Buffy to say a word, he grabbed his mail and headed out the door.

For nearly a minute, Lindsey's wide eyes were fixated on the closed door. He swallowed thickly, turning to face Buffy. "*That* is your husband?" he squeaked.

"No," Buffy countered, "he's some indigent parolee I let sleep on my couch."

Lindsey frowned. "This isn't funny, Buffy," he snapped. "You could have at least mentioned …"

"Mentioned what?"

"That guy's an animal," Lindsey nearly hissed. Try as he might he couldn't banish the mental image of Buffy's very large, very muscled, very tattooed and pissed husband. He knew that Buffy was upper middle class and her husband ran a large corporation. Lindsey had expected someone much older, much paunchier and a whole lot less capable of cold-blooded murder.

"Angel's not an animal," Buffy said quietly. "He's just … overprotective and meddlesome."

Lindsey snorted. "And why exactly was he sleeping on your couch?" he asked. "I thought you kicked him out."

"I did," Buffy rejoined irritably. "You'll notice he left to go back to *his* apartment to check on our daughters."

"Yeah, I got that," he snapped, "but why was he in your house in the first place? How did he get in?"

Buffy shrugged. "I'm assuming he used his key."

Lindsey stared at her dumbfounded for a moment. "Key?" he parroted. "Your estranged husband still has a *key* to your house?"

“Well, yeah,” Buffy said, motioning helplessly. She bit her lower lip and looked over Lindsey’s stunned expression for a moment. “What if there’s an emergency? He needs a key to the house. Besides, what if something breaks?”

“Jesus Buffy,” Lindsey said, shaking his head. “You’re a law student and a man who looks pretty familiar with the prison system has a key to your house.”

“He’s my husband, Lindsey, and the father of my children. We’ve been married for eighteen years,” Buffy announced, exasperated. “Besides,” she mumbled, “he’s only been to jail a couple of times.”

”A *couple* of times?”

“Short times,” Buffy amended, “and really they were just misunderstandings.”

Buffy sighed, rubbing her temples. “You know,” she said, “maybe we should just call it a night.”

As much as Lindsey wanted Buffy, he had to admit she had a point. Being threatened with dismemberment by her husband had been quite enough to put a damper on his evening. Giving Buffy a quick kiss on the cheek, he left, vigilantly checking to make sure Angel wasn’t waiting for him behind a tree.

***

Buffy slipped beneath the sheets with a heavy heart. Biting down on her lip, she stared at the telephone on her nightstand. Giving in to temptation, she picked it up and dialed the number from memory. This time she actually let it ring.

“What?” he snarled into the phone.

“Never mind,” she mumbled.

“No, wait,” he amended frantically. “Buffy?”

“I just wanted to make sure everything was okay when you got back to the apartment,” she explained, hoping her excuse didn’t sound as transparent to him as it did to her.

“Yeah, after I kicked out a couple of Hell’s Angels that Joey invited over, everything was okay,” he said tightly.

“Well, okay,” Buffy said, “I just wanted to make sure.”

He was silent for a long time and she could hear him take a deep breath. “Buffy, I miss you,” he said softly.

Tears immediately sprung to her eyes. “I have to go,” she said quickly, grateful her voice didn’t crack. “Goodnight, Angel.”


	6. Chapter 6

Buffy woke the next morning feeling completely drained. Thankfully it was a Saturday and she didn’t have to do anything more taxing than study. Not even mustering the energy to put on real clothes, she merely pulled on a robe over her pajamas and headed downstairs. She was irritated with herself for her behavior last night; irritated that she missed Angel so intensely.

He was still as overbearing and bullying as he had ever been, maybe even worse. What she wanted and needed from Angel was respect. She was tired of being treated like the helpless wife and mother, like more of a piece of property than a partner.

Buffy sighed, knowing she was being overly melodramatic. She knew Angel loved her and she knew that he did respect her, but the mere fact that he was able to say things that were so hurtful to her, that he could disregard her feelings so completely, wounded her more than she ever imagined. She was going to be a lawyer, dammit, and she was going to have friends and she was going to go out and have some fun every now and then without feeling like she was betraying her family. She loved Angel and she loved her children, but she owed it to herself to have a life outside of them.

Feeling more resolved, Buffy lifted her chin. She saw the kitchen light was on and found Samantha sitting at the table going over paperwork. Pouring herself a cup of coffee that Samantha had obviously made, Buffy asked, “Little early isn’t it?”

Samantha grunted and shrugged in a response that was pure Angel. Smiling and shaking her head, Buffy began pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator. Samantha finally looked up as Buffy set the plate of waffles down in front of her and took the chair on the opposite side of the table.

“You need to eat,” Buffy said firmly.

Samantha rolled her eyes, but decided to humor her mother. As she pushed the paperwork aside to pull the plate closer, Buffy looked at it carefully. Her brow furrowed as she read the Roarke Enterprises letterhead on the paper. “Are you working for your father?”

Samantha cocked an eyebrow at her mother. “For Daddy?” Samantha repeated. “No.”

“Explain,” Buffy ordered.

Shrugging, Samantha said, “Well, Daddy obviously took the ‘you work too much’ line to heart. He’s at the shop a lot now, but he dumped almost all the day to day business of Roarke Enterprises on Wesley.”

Buffy looked at her daughter carefully. People tended to write Samantha off at a glance. She was a pretty little princess with a wealthy, overprotective father. They seemed to put her firmly in the ‘bubblehead’ category without so much as a second thought. But Buffy knew her daughter. She knew how much Samantha noticed things that other people would miss. “You don’t trust Wesley?” Buffy asked cautiously.

“It’s not that I don’t trust him,” Samantha countered. “It’s just ... “ She trailed off, looking at her mother with pursed lips, as if debating how much to reveal.

“I don’t think his business prospectus for the company is aggressive enough,” Samantha blurted out.

“Does your father know you plan on giving advice to Wesley?” Buffy asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

“I plan on talking to Daddy about it,” Samantha said quietly. “I think I have some fresh and innovative ideas that can really make a difference. I’ve been talking with Wesley on and off for the last week or so when he’s trying to talk to Daddy. He needs help and Daddy is so busy trying not to think about you that he can’t think about anything else.”

“Sweetheart,” Buffy said softly, “I think you would be a wonderful bonus to Roarke Enterprises. You should really talk to your father about helping out in a more official capacity, instead of just giving Wesley advice.”

“Why don’t you talk to him for me?” Samantha asked almost venomously. She took a deep shuddering breath and looked over at her mother. “I’m sorry. I really don’t understand what happened, Mom. I keep waiting for you to explain it to us but you haven’t.”

“It’s complicated,” Buffy said quietly. She struggled to say more until her eyes filled with tears. “He hurt me, Sammy. I’ve lived my entire life with Angel. I’ve never known anything else but him. Now I need to take some time and figure out what I want.”

“Mom, I don’t know if this helps or not,” Samantha said, “but he really, really misses you.”

“I know he does, sweetie,” Buffy said. “And I know he loves me, but sometimes, it’s just not enough.”

Samantha swallowed thickly, but squared her shoulders. “Do you regret having me?” she asked bluntly.

Buffy paled, her eyes wide. “Honey,” she said, shocked. “No. Never. How could you think that?”

Samantha sniffled slightly, shifting uneasily on her chair. “It just seems like you’re trying to make up for lost time,” she said. “To make up for all the things you didn’t get to have because of me.”

“Samantha Roarke,” Buffy said firmly. “Look at me. I do not regret having you. I do not regret marrying your father so young.”

Reluctantly, Samantha met her mother’s eyes and smiled weakly. “Okay.”

“Sweetheart,” Buffy said wearily, her grip tightening on her coffee mug. “Your father and I were so, so young when we got married. And like I said, I don’t regret it. But there are issues. We grew up. Circumstances changed. I love your father,” she said firmly. “But in so many respects, he wants me to be the same person that he married and I can’t.”

“Why not?” Samantha asked pitifully.

“Because I would be living a lie.”

***

It took three good jabs at the pipe with her father’s screwdriver to make the water leak noticeably. Joey grinned at the damage and snuck back upstairs. She had to edge along the wall to keep her mother and her sister from seeing her during their weepy heart-to-heart. Samantha could take the direct approach if she wanted for now, but Joey knew that in order to get her parents back together some serious conniving needed to take place.

She slipped through the front door and ran down the street and swung herself onto the Harley behind…Freddie? No, Eddie.

“It’s really fucking early for this shit, Joey,” Eddie announced as he started the Fat Boy onto the street toward her father’s apartment complex. Joey grinned at the back of his skullcap helmet and let her hands caress just shy of his groin while her lips made their way over his throat. She didn’t try to speak over the roar of the engine, but instead just hung on molding her body tightly with his.

The six minutes it took to get to the apartment was more than enough time for Joey to convince him that he had made the right choice by meeting her at the crack of fucking dawn. He pulled into the parking lot, out of sight of her father’s apartment and Joey swung around, climbing over his body until they were face to face. She rubbed her breasts against his chest and kissed him, grinding herself in his lap.

“Thanks for the favor so early in the morning,” she crooned, allowing him to place his hands on her ass and haul her in closer.

“No problem,” he mumbled. “Now what do you want to do?”

Smiling coyly for a moment, she swung her leg over him and hopped down. “I gotta go, baby,” she laughed. “My Dad’ll wake up any second wondering where the fuck I went.”

“Well…what about tonight?” he demanded.

“We’ll see,” she said, backing away, swinging her hips and smiling. “Talk to you later.”

Joey took off running once Eddie was out of sight and toward her father’s apartment. She stopped at the front door and caught her breath before sneaking in, pulling off her leather pants and crawling back into the sleeping bag between her friends. She closed her eyes again and smiled. Her mom should be calling any minute

***

An hour later when her mother still hadn’t called, Joey was starting to get nervous. Thankfully, Samantha appeared at the door just as she was debating going back and doing more damage. Samantha’s expression was drawn, her lips pursed together as she stepped over the still-sleeping bodies in the living room and found her father standing in the kitchen looking blindly out a window.

“Daddy,” Samantha said softly, “you better go over to the house.”

Angel’s head immediately snapped to her. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his posture immediately going rigid.

Samantha shrugged. “Some plumbing problem that mom’s trying to fix by herself. If you want anything from the basement to be salvageable, I suggest you go over there right now.”

Angel narrowed his eyes at his daughter. “Is this some ploy to get me out of here?” he asked suspiciously.

Samantha rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s nine o’clock on a Saturday morning. We’re going to start the rave any second.”

“Samantha,” Angel said, his voice rife with warning.

“Seriously,” she said. “Go help before the entire house floods. We’re not doing anything except hanging out and really, it’s better if you’re not here for that.”

Still somewhat suspicious, Angel grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

Ten minutes later, he found Buffy on the edge of a nervous breakdown, standing in ankle deep water in their basement.

“I don’t know what happened,” she blustered, gesturing around hysterically. She was soaking wet desperately trying to stop the spray of water with her robe by tying it around the leaking pipe. Her silk pajamas were clinging to her body seductively and Angel had to take a deep, calming breath before he approached her.

“Buffy, come on,” he said, tugging her away. He peeled back her robe to briefly examine the pipe and then took her hand, leading her in the direction of the stairs.

“It’s still leaking!” she announced. “The whole house is going to flood!”

“I’ll fix it,” he said, pulling her gently toward the stairs. Buffy allowed him to take her from the freezing pond that was quickly filling in her house. They slopped water everywhere as they reached the main level.

“I want to be self sufficient,” Buffy said petulantly. Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Angel. “Stuff like this isn’t supposed to happen.”

Despite his better judgment, Angel smiled and kissed her forehead. “Pretend you called a plumber. I’ll be back. I have to get some parts.”

***

Three hours later the leak was fixed, the basement was draining its water and Buffy and Angel were seeing what had been sitting on the floor previously that could be salvaged. After the fourth time Buffy had to tear her eyes off her husband’s body to finish her work, Buffy cleared her throat loudly.

“Thanks Angel,” she said, “I really appreciate your help.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered.

“What started it?” she asked as Angel simultaneously said, “Did you sleep with him?”

“What?” they both blurted.

“Did you sleep with him?” Angel repeated plainly, far beyond the point of politeness. “Did you let him stay here with you last night?”

“Angel, that is none of your-“ she started, but she didn’t have time to finish before he pulled her up and on top of the washing machine. He kissed her possessively and groaned as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Rather than fighting with the clinging silk, he ripped her pajama top open and bent to take one of her tightly erect nipples into his mouth. She threaded her fingers through his hair to keep him there, to relish in his familiar and arousing touch.

Suddenly the world dropped away and Angel wasn’t standing in half a foot of cold water and he wasn’t living in an apartment, estranged from the only woman he’d ever loved, he wasn’t staying up nights racking his brain on how to make things better. For that one suspended moment, it was just him and his mate, his other half, working their way up to finally becoming one again.

Angel switched to her other breast, greedily sucking her neglected nipple into his mouth. He was starved for her and knew she felt the same when she began tugging at his wet t-shirt, struggling to get to his bare skin. He reluctantly released her breast long enough to remove the shirt. He tossed it away somewhere behind him and ignored the wet plop it made as it slapped against the remaining water.

They both hurried, moving frantically at getting each other out of their clothes before someone remembered this was not what they were supposed to be doing. They were eighteen again taking advantage of each other in the library while Giles wasn’t looking.

Angel shredded her pajama bottoms as he had the tops, aching to be inside her again. She worked his belt buckle expertly, and pulled at his jeans until she freed his rock hard sex. She wrapped her hands around him and guided him inside herself. They groaned in unison as he filled her, stretching her delicate channel to accommodate him. It had been so long they nearly sobbed together with the sheer pleasure of it.

Angel slammed inside her and she bucked back, violently taking him. Buffy exploded seconds after he was inside, and again moments after that. Her body hadn’t been so sensitive, so ripe and ready for so long and she cried out for him not to stop. He growled his agreement, plunging inside her again and again, lost in her scent, in the silk of her skin, in the taste of her.

When he finally felt the familiar tightening of his loins, he knew he was almost over and he gritted his teeth to keep it from ending. Reaching between them, he twisted her throbbing center between his fingers. She tossed her head back and jerked, squeezing her thighs against his hips and her inner muscles clamping down as she came. Devouring her mouth, Angel released inside of her.

***

She knew she should take charge of the situation, but it just felt so good to rest her head against Angel’s shoulder as he ascended the stairs with her wrapped around his body. It felt natural to tighten her legs around his hips, to feel the flex of his muscles against her. He laid her back on the bed and she did nothing more than revel in the taste of him, in the pleasure of his touch.

She whimpered his name, more unashamedly wanton than she had ever been. He responded in kind, reacting to her not with words, but with soft, animal sounds, with teeth and tongue and body. She twisted, assuming the dominant position as she sank down on his once-again aroused body and rode him hard.

The coupling lacked their usual tenderness and playful banter. It was a near violent; animal and raw. Buffy dug her nails into his chest, arching her back to take him deeper. His rough palms found her breasts, kneading them as he rolled her nipples between his fingertips.

Angel bent his knees, shifting his weight onto his shoulders and bracing his feet against the mattress as he used the leverage to thrust up inside her. She mewled, raking her nails down his chest. With a growl, he threaded a hand in her hair and pulled her down for a carnal, possessive kiss. He bit at her lips, using teeth and tongue to mark his territory.

She broke off the kiss, nipping along his jaw before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to his neck. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as his fingers bit into her hips, pulling her down harder and harder against him. She keened, her sheath fluttering around him as she bit down on his neck, hard. Shouting her name, Angel joined her in release.

Ten minutes later, Angel was still trying to catch his breath. “Fuck me,” he cursed, groaning.

“I don’t think I can,” Buffy rejoined with a short chuckle. “None of my muscles want to work.”

Angel turned his head, finding her lips and kissing her gently as he rolled them both over onto their sides, their chests pressed tightly together. “That was ... “

“The most amazing sex we’ve ever had,” she finished helpfully.

“Pretty much,” he said with a tired sigh. “I hope you don’t want a repeat performance because I don’t think I’m up to it at the moment.”

Her reply was a small snore.


	7. Chapter 7

Samantha and Joey were always embarrassed about the fact that their parents humped like bunnies. Other people’s parents didn’t seem to engage in these overt displays of affection. Other kids never mentioned their parents making out on the living room couch like mindless, hormonally driven teens. Joey figured it was because of their obvious love for one another that she and her sister never saw their break-up coming. It hit them both like a ton of bricks. After tending to Daddy for a few days, she saw it hit him just as hard.

So on Saturday evening when they came home and found the leak in the basement fixed and tattered clothing strewn all over the floor, they figured the plan had been a success. They were still embarrassed by the fact that the coupling between their parents had to have been somewhat rambunctious, but they both let it pass without comment. They were willing to put up with a great deal of naughty behavior if it meant their parents would be back together.

They never saw it coming when Buffy tossed Angel back out of the house that evening. Angel never saw it coming either. One moment they had been sleeping off their earlier activities, snuggled together in a bundle of warmth and afterglow. The next moment, Buffy was telling him he couldn’t stay the night.

“What?” Angel asked groggily, looking at his wife like she had sprouted a second head.

“You can’t stay here,” she said quietly. “It’ll only confuse the girls.”

“The girls?” Angel echoed. “What about me? I’m confused as hell here, baby.”

“I’m not ready to be back together,” she said, kneeling beside him in bed.

“You’re my wife,” he growled.

“We’re separated.”

“Not legally.”

“Do you want it to be legal?”

“No,” Angel groaned. “I want to come home and live with my wife and children. I want to hold you every night and wake up with you every morning.”

“I’m not ready,” she repeated. “Angel, nothing’s changed but sex, and as good as that is, it’s not enough. I need to be on my own for a while and so do you.”

“Are you going to be seeing Lindsey?” he demanded furiously.

“Maybe,” she answered. “I don’t know.”

“But you’re not going to sleep with him,” he prodded. Her silence tore out his heart and he stared at her for a long time, waiting for a miracle to happen. “Buffy please…”

“Just go, Angel.”

For Angel, that was the last straw. Buffy was his life and hearing her tell him that he wasn't wanted ate at his soul like acid. Her initial rejection had shocked him into a stunned stupor. The eventual realization that he couldn’t just come home had left him wallowing in a pit of despair. But this … this was too much.

"Fine," he spat venomously at his wife, throwing back the covers. He was sick of pining over her while she acted like he had no vested interest in whether or not she was fucking her little school buddy. He wasn't a goddamn doormat.

Buffy watched him stomp around the room, growling as he dug through drawers for some clothes he hadn't taken when he left. He eventually found an old pair of sweats and a t-shirt, harshly pulling on the clothes while he muttered and cursed under his breath.

He turned around, glaring at her with such animosity that she shrank back into the pillows. "This is bullshit," he bit out, "absolute bullshit. I'll leave, but this is the end of it, Buffy. I'm done begging you to let me come home. If you decide you want me, you know where I am."

Joey and Samantha watched in stunned silence from their positions on the couch as Angel stomped down the stairs and out the front door, slamming it behind himself with such force that the entire house reverberated. From her position at the top of the stairs, Buffy couldn't tear her eyes from the now closed door. She crossed and uncrossed her arms, willing herself not to cry. While she had spent countless weeks grappling with her life and Angel's place in it, being faced with the prospect of that outcome now being out of her hands rocked her to her foundation.

***

Angel stared at Rebecca's retreating form, almost unable to fathom what he had just done. When she glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled, he forced himself to return the gesture. He swallowed thickly. He had a date.

Sitting down heavily in the chair, Angel was overcome by a violent mixture of emotions. On one hand he felt vindicated and self-righteous. If Buffy could traipse all over town with her little boy toy, Lindsey, Angel was damned well entitled to do the same. But on the other hand, the whole situation felt so completely alien and wrong.

As he considered his daughters' reaction to the news, he actually cringed. They didn’t understand Lindsey’s role in Buffy’s life and they wouldn’t understand Rebecca – should she become someone they would notice.

He growled to himself. Rebecca was beautiful and sophisticated. In a different situation he would have been thrilled to be dating someone like her, but the horrible truth of the matter was that he just wanted Buffy. He wanted to sleep with Buffy and wake up with her. He wanted to make love to Buffy and fuck her like a mindless fool until they were melting into each other. Hell, he wanted her to bitch and yell at him when he worked too much or left his clothes on the floor. Anything but being tossed aside like he hadn’t given his whole life to her.

He shook his head clear. He would date Rebecca. If he could, he might even sleep with her. Buffy could fuck the entire godamn school and he wouldn’t care. He mentally berated himself for even thinking that outright lie and pushed himself back from his desk. He would be thankful if he could keep himself from killing that smartass little college boy before this was all over.

***

Buffy spent the rest of the weekend in a dazed regret that she hadn’t expected, but she didn’t cry. She was very proud of that fact. She didn’t cry and she hardly slept and she barely spoke to her daughters. This whole thing was like a nightmare coming to life and the worst part of it was that it was all her fault. She was the one who was unsure of her relationship. Angel never had a second of wavering that she had noticed. He might have been angry with her but he never mentioned leaving her, never said he’d had enough.

She was a poophead. She broke the heart of the only man she’d ever loved and she still wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. She didn’t know what to think about the rest of her life, but the thought of living forever without Angel made her blood run cold. She was confused and hurt and terrified. None of that made her choice easier though. She had done this for a reason and she had to remember that. She wasn’t making her family’s life hell just for kicks.

Samantha was understanding or she played it off perfectly if she wasn’t. She gave her mother a wide berth and was careful to be especially considerate at all times. Joey, on the other hand, was furious and confused. She planted that glare on Buffy that was identical to Angel’s every chance she got, but she didn’t say a word.

Monday morning, Buffy dropped the girls off at the shop before school per their request. She didn’t see Angel and she was grateful for that. As she headed to the UC Sunnydale campus, she felt like she was underwater. She hadn’t slept well in a very long time. She couldn’t remember the last time the thought of food was vaguely appealing. If she didn’t find a way to pull it together soon, she was going to fail all her classes.

Buffy was seated in one of the uncomfortable little desks looking at her daily planner when Lindsey slid into the seat next to her. He was whistling a jaunty little tune as he reached over and placed a steaming cup of coffee onto the corner of her desk. Buffy managed a weak smile. “Thanks, but I don’t think I can,” she said wearily. Caffeine on top of how she was feeling was bound to make her nothing but jittery.

Lindsey’s brow furrowed with concern. “You okay?” he asked.

She smiled tightly and nodded. “Fine,” she said. “Just had a taxing weekend. Basement flooded.”

“Damn,” Lindsey said, “I hope you got it taken care of.”

“Yeah, Angel fixed it,” she mumbled.

Lindsey shot her a disapproving glance. “You know, Buffy, it would probably be a good idea to stop seeing your estranged husband.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” she said. “He told me as much on Saturday.”

Lindsey was quiet for several long moments. So, Angel was finally getting tired of being dicked around. This was a very interesting development indeed. “Well, I guess you’re free for our regular Tuesday night study group then,” he said blandly.

Buffy looked from her planner to Lindsey and back again. Thanksgiving was in two weeks. This would be the first holiday where she might be alone. The first of possibly many. Her heart ached. “No, Lindsey,” she said. “I can’t.” Regardless of what she might have told Angel, Buffy’s attraction had little to do with matters. Yes, she found him handsome and intriguing, but it was more Angel’s opposition to her friendship with Lindsey that made her want to pursue it than the friendship itself.

***

“Dad,” Joey barked, kicking her father in the hip as he worked under one of the cars in the shop.

“What?” he snapped.

“You have to pick me up after practice,” she said, completely unconcerned with his show of temper.

Angel pushed himself out from under the car and frowned at his daughter. “Can’t Spike just give you a ride over to your mother’s?” he asked. After replacing both Angel and Devon, Spike and Oz had gone on to be part of a phenomenally successful band. They had been so successful that Spike was free to spend his time doing nothing more taxing than traveling around the globe and, when he was in Sunnydale, helping Joey’s band. But truth be told, Angel had totally forgotten about Joey’s band practice…because he had a date. He couldn’t exactly drag Rebecca along to pick Joey up. Well, okay, he could, but it wouldn’t be recommended.

“Da-ddy,” she whined, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

Angel’s resolve was strong. “I’ll talk to Spike and work it out with him,” he said shortly.

“I don’t want a ride from Spike,” Joey complained. “I want a ride from you, besides, Spike’s…busy. Yeah, he’s really busy.”

“Joe,” Angel warned, rolling back under the car. He ignored that she kicked a tool across the garage and that she stomped out pissed off. If she was ever going to grow up, she would have to learn to live with disappointment now and then. Besides, he wasn’t going to give up his first date in eighteen years because Joey had a preference on who picked her up. A twinge of guilt snuck up, but Angel held firm. It was ridiculous for him to feel guilty about choosing some woman over his daughter.

***

“Mom,” Samantha said. Buffy had nearly made it out of the front door. “I need to go pick up Joey from band practice or you do.”

“What?” Buffy echoed in confusion. “Angel always brings Joey home when Spike can’t.”

“Well, Spike wasn’t there tonight and Daddy says he has plans and can’t make it. Course, I’m sure he told her earlier he couldn’t pick her up. She just doesn’t think Daddy will ever really mean no,” Samantha said, deliberately putting a clipped tone in her words.

“Plans?” Buffy asked, lost in thought. “Is he working late?”

“Not if some sexy, brunette wannabe actress is working,” Samantha growled. She put her hands on her hips and glared at her mother. “Chloe works at that new Italian restaurant and she saw him walking in with her. She was in some teensy, little red dress. Slut. I hope he knows that if he hooks up with some tramp, I am not pretending to like her.”

Samantha tossed her hair back irritably and pulled the keys from her Mom’s lax grip. “I’ll go get Joey before she starts making out with some metal head freak.”

Pausing, Samantha gently guided Buffy into the kitchen. “Mom, you look all pale. Maybe you should have a glass of water while I’m gone.”

“Wait,” Buffy rasped, blinking at her eldest child. “He’s on a…date?”

“Well, yeah,” Samantha said, as if she were confused by the question. “I mean, I guess he was. He had his hand on her leg. Chloe said she has great legs too. You just *know* she’s a slut if Daddy’s already feeling her up after, like, five seconds. Anyway, I’ll be right back, Mom, then you can go to your study session.”

Briskly, Samantha pecked her mother’s cheek and teetered out the door in her three-inch heels. She grinned once she got inside the Jeep and headed over to the garage where they practiced. Spike was waiting outside the door, smoking a cigarette and she slipped to her feet and sauntered over to him.

“Been waiting for you, luv,” Spike said, flicking his cigarette away. He smoothed his hands over her hips and pulled her close. She allowed him one long, slow kiss before she pulled away.

“I have to get back home,” she whispered, biting his neck. “Later.”

“I’ll be ducking through your window in an hour, pet,” Spike said. “I expect you to be there.”

“I might,” Samantha said, tossing her long blonde locks over her shoulder as she headed for the door.

***

“Listen to me,” Rebecca said in a self-deprecating tone, rolling her eyes, “poor little rich girl.”

“We all got problems,” Angel replied seriously. He liked Rebecca. She was intelligent and intriguing, if a bit too mysterious and self-absorbed for his taste. Talking to her was nice. Hell, enjoying a mutual attraction with someone was nice.

They chatted for a long time. Angel had just taken a drink of his wine when what he saw nearly caused him to choke. Before he could speak, Samantha and Joey both pulled up chairs at the table, looking expectantly between him and Rebecca.

“I’m sorry,” Rebecca said, clearly confused by the interlopers.

“We’re his kids,” Joey said boldly, glaring at Rebecca. “The kids that live with him. The kids that are constantly at his shop. The kids that are going to inherit everything he has so no gold digging second wife could ever get her paws on a single red cent. The kids that could track him down more efficiently than a pair of bloodhounds if you ever even thought about taking a romantic vacation somewhere. The kids that – “

“Thank you, Josephine,” Angel bit out, gripping his daughter’s hand in his own. He smiled at Rebecca, his face flaming in embarrassment.

Rebecca recovered quickly. “Angel mentioned he had two daughters,” Rebecca said politely. “I guess I just expected you to be ... younger.”

“Got an early start,” Angel said tightly.

“What about his wife?” Joey continued. “Did he mention her? Because he’s still married. They’re not even legally separated. He’s just using you to get back at her.”

***

“Inside now,” Angel barked, glaring at his youngest daughter with barely veiled irritation. He walked around to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel.

“But Daddy, I just – “

“You insulted Rebecca and you embarrassed me,” he bit out. “I do not expect you to be happy about the situation between your mother and I, but I do expect you to be civil to my friends. If you cannot be civil, I expect you to bite your tongue.”

“Really Daddy,” Samantha said, sliding into the front seat before Joey could and crossed her legs, “we were just helping you out. Joey may be a bit excitable and rude, but she has a point. If you could have seen Mom’s face when I told her about Rebecca-“

“You told your mother?” Angel asked tersely, pivoting in his seat to glare back and forth between his daughters. Joey bravely tried not to shrink back under her father’s glare, but Samantha studied her perfectly manicured nails.

“She turned white as a ghost and I had to make sure she didn’t pass out,” Samantha said coolly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that upset in my entire life, so we decided to break up the date before something happened that we couldn’t repair.”

“Your mother made her choice,” Angel snarled, putting the car in drive. “I don’t want you two trying to manipulate me into feeling sorry for her.”

“She hasn’t been sleeping,” Joey shot in from the back. “Or eating. In fact, her clothes are hanging off of her. She can’t even concentrate to study.”

“Thank you, Joey,” Angel answered. “Let me make this plain. I know you two want us back together, but you’re creating more problems, not helping. Now please, let us work this out.”

“Yeah, cause you’re both doing such a bang up job,” Joey snorted loudly.


	8. Chapter 8

“What the?” Spike murmured under his breath as he climbed over the ledge to Samantha’s window. Her lamp was on and he had no trouble making out her trembling shoulders or her tear stained face.

He padded quickly to her bedside, gently sitting on the mattress next to her. With a sniffle, Samantha half climbed into his lap and he wrapped his arms around her, pressing gentle kisses to the top of her head.

Spike adored Samantha. Sure, he felt weird and more than a little pervy dating a girl he’d known since before she was even a glint her father’s eye ... but self-loathing aside, he couldn’t deny his feelings toward her. While he looked upon Joey with the affection of a beloved uncle or family friend, grinning at her antics and reveling in the misery she brought her parents, Samantha had always been a different story entirely. He’d never had the easy camaraderie with Samantha that he’d had with Joey. Which was just as well, because it could have made the time Angel brought his daughters to one of the stops on the band’s farewell tour two years earlier even more awkward than it already was.

Spike hadn’t seen Samantha in years and at first glance, he had thought she was Buffy. But upon closer inspection, he realized that the gorgeous young creature was Angel’s daughter, not his wife. Samantha had been reserved, as always, guarding herself with icy control. But over the course of the night, they’d spent a good deal of time talking. He managed to draw her out of her shell and discovered that behind the rigid control, lurked a flirtatious and daring young woman. Upon that realization, he had quickly cut the night short, and gone back to the hotel to take the coldest shower in the history of man.

It was Samantha that had pursued him, surprising him with telephone calls so racy that his toes had curled. They spoke on the phone and over email for months. Spike tried, he really did, but Samantha wouldn’t be dissuaded. And truth be told, he didn’t want to be dissuaded either. He fell in love. Hard.

So, for the last year and a half he’d been sneaking around with one of his oldest friend’s daughters. He pretended to be the doting family friend while he spent his nights sneaking into her room and praying her father wouldn’t overhear. Luckily, Buffy and Angel were usually so busy themselves that it wasn’t an issue.

Spike sighed, hugging Samantha tighter as her sniffles gradually began to subside. As much as he was in love with her, as much as he would do anything for her, Samantha had always maintained distance. Not just from him, but from everyone. She was always set apart, always in control of the situation. You never knew what she was thinking. And Spike had never, ever, seen her fall apart like this. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, “what’s wrong?”

She sniffled one last time and pulled back, blinking up at him with damp eyes. She seemed to be considering how much to trust him and Spike held his breath for interminably long seconds.

“My parents,” she finally admitted sadly. “I just thought they needed the right push and they’d get back together, but now I don’t know.”

Spike nodded, brushing a few strands of hair back from her beautiful face. Though he had to admit, he found it much less stressful sneaking into the house now that Angel wasn’t actually living in it, he knew that it was hurting Samantha.

Still sniffling, Samantha told Spike about what had happened that evening with her father and Rebecca. She told her about her mother’s reaction to the news and about the flooding basement episode. Her tone was defeated and it struck Spike deeply. Samantha was never defeated. Ever. He always thought that she had been in control from the moment she came into the world. She did what was necessary and everyone else was expected to fall into line. The lost little girl sobbing on his shoulder was breaking his heart.

“So, Buffy’s still seeing that lawyer ponce?” Spike questioned thoughtfully after a long, calming pause.

“Yeah,” Samantha said. “He’s a cocky son of a bitch. I really hope Daddy gets his hands on him someday.”

“I’ll tell you what, pet,” he said softly, kissing the tears on her face. “Why don’t we take Lindsey out of the picture? Your mother’s picky enough. She won’t find someone else worthy of her for quite some time if he’s not threatening the issue.”

“What could we do to get rid of him?” Samantha asked quietly.

Spike gave her a dazzling smile. “Lawyer boy will never see it coming,” he answered.

***

Buffy changed clothes three times before her Wednesday night date with Lindsey. It was in the middle of the week and a school night. She should be studying but she couldn’t get the picture out of her mind of Angel with another woman, touching her, making love to her. Just Samantha’s description of his hand on the woman’s leg was enough to make her insides twist.

She stared into the mirror and shook her head in disgust. It wasn’t her clothes that were wrong. It was her. She had lost weight and since she was thin to begin with, it made her look haggard. Dark circles rounded her eyes so dark, cosmetics couldn’t completely cover it. The most noticeable was the look in her eyes – sad, desperate, wild.

For a long time she stood staring at her reflection until she thought she could see right through herself. Her daughters and her husband were barely speaking to her. She was falling apart. This date with Lindsey would do nothing but help her hate herself just a little bit more.

When Lindsey arrived to pick her up, she forced herself to be far more cordial than she felt. Lindsey was the perfect gentleman, helping her with her jacket, opening all the doors. His car was a Mercedes, black and sexy as hell. The restaurant he picked was in the historic hotel downtown. Buffy had never been inside it before. When she suggested it to Angel, he just snorted saying it was too stuffy for his taste.

Buffy smiled at Lindsey as he poured her a glass of wine. She took in the atmosphere, the jazz combo playing lightly in the background, the soft, candlelit atmosphere. It was nice. Very nice. Buffy couldn’t help but chuckle at the novelty of being wooed. She and Angel had just sort of fallen on and for each other. There was really no dating. It was like one second they didn’t even know who the other was and the next moment they were spending the rest of their lives together. It had all seemed so perfectly natural. It wasn’t this awkward, somewhat stilted rapport she had with Lindsey.

She smiled, taking a large drink of wine. She had to admit that the recent stress had taken a toll on her relationship with Lindsey. While she still liked him and found him attractive, she couldn’t look at him without thinking about all the problems with Angel. More and more, Lindsey wasn’t worth all the trouble. But Angel was moving on. That, more than anything, urged Buffy to see if she might have a spark with Lindsey.

By halfway through dinner, she was fairly sure whatever spark may have been there had been drowned. And at the moment, drowning sounded rather appealing. As Lindsey motioned toward her wine glass, Buffy nodded with a smile. Three glasses of wine were improving her outlook on things.

***

“Your place or mine?” Lindsey asked boldly.

Buffy smiled at him, slipping into the car as he held the door open. “Mine.”

Buffy wasn’t sure when she had noticed them, but she had. The dark haired couple sitting several tables behind Lindsey. They looked stunning together. The guy lacked Angel’s raw masculine appeal, but he was handsome. The young brunette across the table complemented him perfectly. He wore a wedding ring, she didn’t. Logically, Buffy knew it wasn’t Angel and Rebecca, but looking at the couple chatting, hands brushing against one another, their inviting smiles ... she couldn’t stop the images she had of Angel and his new fuck toy. Not caring if she looked like a lush, she’d finished off the bottle of wine.

Lindsey smiled at her without comment and drove them to her house. Buffy leaned against the soft leather seats and smiled. The wine had helped tremendously and her whole body felt so much better. Short minutes later, Lindsey was opening her car door and escorting her inside. He led her directly up the stairs and to the bedroom with a little direction from Buffy.

Once the door was softly closed, Lindsey pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and Buffy pressed herself against him, enjoying the thrill of kissing someone who was not Angel. Lindsey’s hands roved over her body more quickly and less expertly than Angel, who had memorized every plane of her years before. The more he touched her the more her heart began to race and she fought the urge to back away or jerk when he caressed more intimate places.

She threaded her fingers through his hair defiantly and tried harder to lose herself with him. He was sexy and although different, his touch was arousing. She kept very still as he unzipped the back of her dress and moved down to kiss her throat as he smoothed his hands over her bare back.

She tried to relax as he slipped the dress from her shoulders, trailing his fingers down her arms. She assured herself that she was attracted to him and wanted him to see her naked body. She wanted to give herself to him. She was so busy reassuring herself in a monotonous mantra inside her head that it took her a second to realize he had stopped touching her.

She opened her eyes. Her dress was pooled at her feet, leaving her just in her matching black lace bra and panty set and Lindsey was staring at the scars marring her abdomen. She had been so nervous, she had forgotten about them completely. Now, tears sprang to her eyes as she crossed her arms over her stomach and backed away, nearly tripping over her dress.

Lindsey had been, and still was, staring at her in utter horror. The scars were ugly, sure, they were definitely not something you’d see on a pin up girl and Lindsey clearly hadn’t been expecting them. Angel always kissed them when they were in bed and often splayed his hand over her stomach, caressing them when they were just lounging around together. To him, they were a beautiful gift. To Lindsey, judging by the way he’d gone green, they were not.

Choking on a sob, Buffy ran to the gathered the bundle on the floor at Lindsey’s feet and ran to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her and crawled into the tub, clutching her dress and purse to her belly. Curling into a little ball, she began to sob. She heard Lindsey’s voice through the door, but ignored it as he begged her to come out and talk to him. Nothing he could say would change the look on his face. The absolute revulsion in his eyes was enough for her to know everything she needed to know.

***

Angel had been at the onsite gym of his apartment complex attempting to work out some of his recent stress when Buffy called his cell phone, sobbing. He felt like his heart had flung out his chest at the sound of her desperate tears. Barely able to understand her, he figured out, as he ran out of the gym to his car, that she was at home, Lindsey was with her and something about her stomach. Whatever it was, he felt panicked as he raced the few miles it took to get home.

He used his key to get in and took the steps two at a time to the bedroom to find Lindsey talking to a closed bathroom door. Lindsey jerked up and looked at Angel before backing slowly away from the door. Angel hurried to the door and knocked on it, knowing he would have plenty time to kill that home-wrecker later.

“Buffy?” he called. “It’s Angel. Let me in, baby.”

He didn’t say anything else, but stood waiting in silence for a minute, maybe more, until a little click sounded and the door was opened a crack. Shooting a prideful glare at Lindsey, Angel slipped inside and shut the door behind him. He found Buffy curled in the tub in nothing but a bra and a pair of panties, and a dress draped over her middle.

Immediately, Angel fell to his knees and tugged at the material across her stomach. “Buffy, are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”

She gripped the material with white knuckles, holding it against her scarred belly. New bouts of sobs over took her as she closed in on herself.

“Baby, it’s just me,” he whispered soothingly, trying to inch the material away. “Let me see what’s wrong.”

When he was finally able to pull the dress away, he looked at her stomach in confusion. There was nothing wrong with it. It looked perfectly normal to him. He moved closer, trying to inspect some hidden hurt but could find nothing.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, climbing into the tub and easing himself behind her. She nestled against his chest and let him hold her. “What were you hiding, sweetheart?”

“M-my stomach,” she finally blurted. “He saw,” she sobbed, her whole body racked with the force of her tears, “and he just s-stared. Repulsed by…my sc-scars.”

Angel was torn. On one hand, Lindsey's aversion to Buffy's scars was no doubt what had kept the insolent whelp from fucking his mate. But on the other hand, Lindsey's rejection had wounded Buffy deeply, made her doubt her self-worth. Angel sighed, cuddling her closer. "I love you, Buffy," he whispered.

Her sobs stopped and they were silent for a very long time. Eventually Buffy groaned, hating herself. "I'm a mess," she whispered desolately.

"You're just confused, baby," Angel told her, pressing a soft kiss to the space beneath her ear.

She sobbed again, her entire body shaking with the effort. "I'm just so unhappy," she cried. "And I don't know why. I'm upset with you, but we're still sleeping together. And I love you, but I still go out with Lindsey. Then I want Lindsey to touch me, but I freak out when he's not you. My daughters hate me. Samantha thinks I regret having her. Joey's going to end up on welfare - "

"Shhh," Angel hushed her gently, turning her around in the confined space so she could bury her face against his chest. His hands smoothed up and down her back until her sobs finally subsided. When she was reasonably calm, he sat on the edge of the tub and lifted her into his lap. With one hand, he leaned over and started the water in the bathtub, pouring some of her favorite bubble bath into the water. Methodically, he undressed her and ever so gently, set her in the warm, bubble filled water. Standing, he shed his own clothes and quickly joined her in the tub.

Buffy lay back against his chest with a weary sigh. She let Angel gently wash her body as he murmured soothing words into her ear, telling her how much he loved her, how absolutely beautiful he found her, how she was his life. With Buffy now exhausted and wrapped in her hooded chenille robe, Angel cracked open the door. The bedroom was empty. A very cursory glance out the window showed that Lindsey's Mercedes was long gone. Returning to the bathroom, he scooped Buffy up in his arms and carried her to their bed.

***

"What the fuck are we doing?" Joey demanded, glaring at her sister.

Samantha merely smiled knowingly. As Lindsey stomped out the front door and jumped in his car, Samantha started the engine. Her parents were going to have to worry about each other. Right now, she was going to take care of Lindsey. Samantha had merely been intending to follow him home and find out where he lived, but Lindsey wasn't going home. He was going to a bar.

Angel's daughters sat outside Willy's for two hours before finally venturing inside in search of their prey. Samantha grinned wickedly when she saw him bent over the bar drowning in beer. If he was three sheets to the wind, this would be really easy, just like Spike said.

“Okay,” Samantha said quietly. “You go order a beer.”

“Me?” Joey gasped. “You’re the older one.”

“Yes, but you look twenty-five and I look twelve,” Samantha explained. “Now go.”

Shrugging, Joey sauntered across the bar and sidled next to Lindsey. Although he was aware that Buffy had two daughters, Lindsey had only seen the pictures in the house. Hopefully, he would be too drunk to recognize her right away. True to form, Joey immediately started flirting with both the bartender and Lindsey. Samantha grinned. It was like shooting fish in a barrel.

Samantha strolled across the bar, pausing to wink at a drunk guy who shouted at her. She had no trouble controlling the male species. While Joey attracted them like flies and then let them have their way, Samantha attracted men and dangled them on their little hooks until she had a use for them.

She slipped the roofies into his beer and hoped it would both dissolve and not turn his drink blue. She would definitely have to ask Spike why he would know so much about the date rape drug. His dark beer didn’t appear to have a blue tint, but it was dissolving a bit too slowly. At this rate he would have chunks in his brew. Samantha took a deep breath and then caressed his shoulders. Joey did her best feminine huff of disapproval as her sister took over the show.

“Buffy,” Lindsey slurred, “I’m so sorry.”

“Drink your beer and let’s get out of here,” Samantha whispered. She stayed partially to his side, hoping the drunkenness and the partial view would fool him long enough.

“I didn’t mean ta hurt your feelin’s,” he said.

“Of course not,” she crooned. “Come on, finish your drink, sailor.”

***

"You sure this is the right place?" Joey demanded. She was breathing hard, laboring from the effort of trying to support Lindsey's largely unconscious weight.

"It's what's on his driver's license," Samantha said, taking Lindsey's keys and opening the apartment door.

"You know, this is just too choice," Joey grumbled. "I'm supposed to be the bad kid, but you're the one drugging people and breaking into houses."

Haughtily, Samantha looked over her shoulder. "I do what needs to be done," she said shortly.

Together, they managed to drag Lindsey through his apartment to the bedroom. Samantha had to admit that he had great taste. The apartment was decorated with an artist's eye. Oh well, too bad. They managed to dump Lindsey on the bed. "Take off his shirt," Samantha ordered, reaching for the hem of her own blouse.

Joey stared at her dumbfounded. "Wanna run that past me again?" she asked.

"His shirt," Samantha said, pulling her blouse over her head and carefully folding it. "Take it off."

Joey was too shocked to protest. Gracelessly, she pulled Lindsey's shirt over his head. Samantha shrugged out of her bra and crossed her arms over her chest. "Okay, now, there's a camera in my purse," she said, crawling onto the bed with Lindsey and wrapping the covers around both of them.

"This is bullshit," Joey muttered. "Why am I the one that's always grounded when you're clearly the juvenile delinquent?"

Samantha merely smiled at her sister with a superior smirk. "The art is not getting caught," she countered.

Still muttering under her breath, Joey began snapping pictures.

***

Slipping beneath the covers with Buffy, Angel carefully removed her robe and tossed it aside. He cradled her against him and held on to her, stroking her stomach lightly with his fingertips. He traced the scars one by one. He had long memorized them. He knew each stitch that had been placed in her flesh, just as he remembered each moment he sat by her bed praying he wouldn’t lose her.

Buffy fell asleep, lulled by his familiar touch and Angel held her for a long time, much longer than he had intended. He didn’t know what to think or where his life was going from here. There was nothing he wanted more than to stay there in bed with her for as long as he could, but he knew it wasn’t possible. She had said that she still loved him, that she was confused and although it wasn’t everything he dreamed she would say, it was enough. He could hold on to that little tidbit and be okay.

With a deep sigh, he carefully extracted himself from her body and prepared to go back to his apartment. She had made it abundantly clear that he was no longer welcome in his own home. As he tiptoed to the bathroom, Buffy roused from sleep and looked anxiously around the dark room.

“Angel?”

“I’m here,” he whispered back softly. “I was just going to get my clothes. Don’t worry, I’m going to go home before the girls know I spent the night.”

“Don’t leave,” she whispered. She rose from the bed and almost trudged toward him. She took his hand and pulled lightly to lead him back to bed.

“Alright. I’ll stay the night.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. He watched her hair sweep over her shoulders in the dark and reached out to touch a strand.

“No?” he asked in confusion.

“Will you…will you please just come back home?” she said hoarsely. He couldn’t clearly see the tears in her eyes, but he heard them in her voice.

“And if you change your mind tomorrow?” he asked, trying to keep his tone calm. “I’m not going to jump in and out of your life, Buffy.”

“I’m sorry, Angel,” she choked. “I love you so much. We still have things to work out but I want you to stay. I…I need you to stay.”

He pulled her closer, hugging her against his body. "Okay, baby," he whispered. "If that's what you want."


	9. Chapter 9

Samantha was sitting at the kitchen table sipping a cup of coffee when Angel came downstairs the next morning. She did not seem surprised to see him. "Are you staying this time?" she asked.

Angel poured himself a cup of coffee and nodded mutely. "She asked me to," he said.

Rising from her chair, Samantha walked over to where Angel stood. "You don't trust her?" she asked, with her usual observant edge.

Taking a deep breath, Angel looked at his daughter. "I trust your mother implicitly," he said. "But … I don't know. I don't know what's wrong, but I do know that this isn't over yet."

"I've been reading up on depression," Samantha offered quietly. "Do you think Mom would talk to someone?"

"I don't know," Angel replied, his voice tinged with desolation. "Your mother has always been so strong, so self-reliant. She doesn't like admitting she needs help." He took a deep breath. "I can't make her get help."

***

Angel knew the girls had been informing him about Buffy's less than stellar physical condition to push his buttons. But he also knew they had been telling the truth. He had spent countless nights worrying about her, wondering if she was sleeping, if she was getting enough to eat. But living with her once again, he had to admit that seeing it first hand was even more devastating.

Buffy was no longer distant. Quite the opposite, she seemed to need the constant reassurance of his touch, which he was more than willing to provide. But she wasn't talking. When he came home for lunch on Tuesday and found Buffy sitting on the living room floor rather than in her Constitutional Law class, Angel had asked if she was going to school. Her only reply had been to burst into tears. Angel hadn't broached the subject again, but by Friday, he realized her bookbag hadn't been moved all week.

The weekend was quiet and a bit strange. The girls seemed to haunt the house, watching over their parents like they thought they would just fall apart at any second. Buffy didn’t leave the house at all and Angel began to wonder if she had left since Tuesday. On Sunday, he made a quiet call to Faith to ask her to return to the shop for a week, maybe more. After demanding back pay for the time she wasn’t working, she returned to her job and promised not to call him at all for any reason.

After his early morning phone call, he padded to the living room where Buffy was sitting on the couch. She was usually so full of energy, always doing something or performing some activity. It was definitely odd to see her just sitting there, staring out the window.

He sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms. It wasn’t surprising at all when she climbed on his lap and nestled her face against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and ran his hand over her hair.

“I love you,” he said, after long moments of silence.

“I love you too,” she answered. Her voice was muffled in his shirt.

“I was thinking it might help you to talk to someone about how you’re feeling,” he said softly. “Maybe someone who is objective.”

“You think I’m crazy?” Her head jerked up.

Angel took a deep breath. “So much is changing in your life right now, Buffy,” he replied calmly. “The girls are almost grown, you’re going back to school.” He paused for a moment. “I know that those two things have cast your life in a very different light. I know you look at Samantha and realize just how young we were. I know that you go to school and realize how much you missed out on by staying home with me and the girls.”

“I’m a bad person,” she whispered.

“No, baby, you’re not,” he assured her, holding her tighter. He closed his eyes, just basking in the sensation of being near her again. “I should have listened,” he admitted, “but I was too caught up in what I was doing. I was so intent on building up the company, on leaving something for the girls, that I missed the whole point. I should have been there for you and them, physically and emotionally.”

Buffy curled into him, her fingers idly toying with the material of his shirt. “You’ve always been there for the girls,” she said, sniffling.

“Not the way I needed to be,” he said seriously. “You’re right, I let you be the bad guy because I didn’t want them upset with me. I was so afraid of ending up like my father that I did the exact opposite. That wasn’t fair to you or them.”

“I don’t want to see a psychiatrist,” she said. Her voice was quiet but there was an edge to it that made him think twice about pressing the point.

“Will you think about it?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Beginning to get upset, she shifted to move off his lap, but he held on more tightly. Her whole body tensed but she didn’t struggle against him.

“Okay,” he said. “It’s okay. It was just a suggestion…and I have one more.”

“I can’t take this right now, Angel, please,” Buffy pleaded, looking up at him with those luminous hazel eyes widened in something akin to terror.

“Shhh,” he whispered, kissing her gently. “I was just going to suggest that you cancel your classes this semester and finish them next semester. I think you need a little bit of a break. What do you think?”

“Won’t I be a failure?” she asked. The tears that had started to fill in her eyes were dangerously close to falling and he felt his heart clench at the sight. No matter how many times he saw her cry, he would never get used to it.

“No, baby,” he answered. “You’re just someone who knows when she needs some time off.”

Relaxing a bit, she leaned back against his chest and closed her eyes. “Okay,” she muffled against his shirt.

***

It took Buffy a week of prodding to finally drop her classes. Angel ended up having to bundle her into the car and drive her to campus to get her to do it. It seemed like all she wanted to do was sleep. Angel was still far too worried about her to even think about going back to work, so they both haunted the house day in and day out. He was as supportive as he could be, but it was difficult to watch her be so miserable, yet to unwilling to take any steps to make it better.

By the time Thanksgiving break rolled around, the girls were avoiding both of them due to their bad tempers. Angel didn’t even bother fighting when Samantha informed him that she and Joey were going to be staying at the apartment most of the break. Strangely enough, Buffy said nothing about their absence or what horrible acts of debauchery they could possibly be doing while they were on their own. In fact, Buffy was beginning to say less and less about anything at all.

The night before Thanksgiving, or rather, the morning of, Angel was awakened from a sound sleep with his wife sobbing at his side. He blinked open his bleary eyes and pulled her closer, trying to clear the cobwebs of sleep from his mind. The clock read 3:00 AM in bold, blue lettering and he fought the urge to growl in irritation.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked hoarsely.

“You’re not wearing your wedding ring,” she wept. Instinctively, he felt for the ring and realized that it was indeed missing. He groaned. He knew exactly where it was, not that the fact was going to help him now.

“It’s on the dresser in the apartment,” he explained. He brushed her hair back from her damp face and kissed her forehead. “I’ll get it first thing in the morning, sweetheart, okay?”

“You took off your ring,” she announced again, sobbing in earnest. “Why would you take it off unless you didn’t love me anymore?”

“I love you, Buffy. I just took it off because-“ Angel stopped in mid-sentence and stared up at the dark ceiling. There was no way he was getting out of this in one piece.

“Because you went on a date,” Buffy wailed. “I didn’t take off my ring. I never took it off cause, I still love you, but you did.”

Angel rolled out of bed and fumbled for his clothes in the dark.

"Where are you going?" Buffy sobbed, her wail tinged with hysteria.

"To get the goddamn ring!" Angel snapped.

Buffy's only answer was more sobbing. Angel sighed. He flipped on the bedside lamp and dug around under the bed for Buffy's slippers. Finding them, he slipped them on her feet. She had been sleeping in a pair of yoga pants and one of his old t-shirts, so he simply grabbed a sweatshirt out of the closet and pulled it over her head. Buffy's sobs had almost subsided by the time she had the sweatshirt on and Angel grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door.

She didn't say a word as he tucked her into the car and drove across town. He judged from the fact that her sniffles were stopping that she approved of his decision to go get the ring with her in tow. Angel was almost beyond caring. He just wanted a full night's sleep. He just wanted his wife to get through the day without having a complete breakdown. He wanted to be able to stop tiptoeing around her every second of the day and night.

He pulled into the parking space in front of his former apartment and shifted the car into park. He leaned over, kissing Buffy on the forehead. "I'll be right back," he said.

The key was still on his key ring, so Angel just opened the door and walked inside. After all, it had been his apartment up until a few weeks ago and even if he wasn't living there, he still had every right to barge in on his girls' privacy. Especially since they would be fast asleep. It was three in the morning, after all.

Angel came to a dead stop just inside the threshold. The scene in front of him just wasn't registering. For a minute, he thought he was in the wrong apartment. But no … that was Spike. Angel was really sure that was Spike. Even if all Angel could see was the back of his peroxide fried head. As Spike moved his head to the side, giving a glimpse of his partner's profile, another thought hit Angel. Spike was fucking Buffy up against the fireplace in the apartment that *he* was paying for.

Logic definitely didn't play into it. Otherwise Angel would have remembered that his nervous wreck of a wife was still sniffling in the car just outside. In fact, it wasn't until she spoke that it finally hit Angel that Spike's partner wasn't Buffy.

"Yes, Spike," she moaned, her perfectly manicured fingernails biting into the corded muscle of Spike's shoulder.

"Samantha?"

Angel took a tentative step inside and then another. His confusion was quickly turning to rage as he stared at Spike backing away from his innocent little princess and grabbing his pants. “I’ll kill you,” Angel snarled in pure fury.

“I know what this looks like, but…” Spike blurted, struggling to pull on his pants and back up at the same time. “Look, mate, I’m in love with your daughter.”

“You pedophile piece of shit!” Angel roared. His wedding ring was completely forgotten as he charged across the room. As he chase Spike around the furniture and out the front door, the sound of Samantha’s scream of horror barely registered in either of their minds.

***

Buffy was certain she was losing her mind. It was the only possible explanation for being in the car outside the apartment Angel should never have had to get at 3:00 AM. She was seriously considered the option that she had gone completely batty when Spike came running out of the building bare-chested and barefoot. She got out of the car when she saw Angel running in a full sprint behind him, but she stopped her in her tracks when Samantha came running out in a white silk robe.

“Mom!” Samantha screamed, while sobbing wholeheartedly. “Daddy’s going to kill him! You have to stop him. He’s really going to kill Spike.”

Buffy’s eyes widened as she realized the full weight of what had happened. Gasping in a breath, she turned to where Angel had pulled Spike into the grass and was raining blows into his friend’s face. Flashes of the possible dire circumstances flashed before her eyes and as Samantha ran toward them, Buffy fell into step behind her daughter.

“Angel!” Buffy screamed as Samantha shouted, “No, Daddy!”

***

Buffy was fairly sure her head was going to explode any second. The pounding behind her temples couldn't continue much longer without something giving. Tara touched her gently on the arm and leaned over, "There he is."

Buffy looked at the window of the heavy security door that separated the holding area from the waiting room at the Sunnydale Correctional Facility. There was a loud buzzing and then a clang as the door finally swung outward. Angel, still dressed in his t-shirt and jeans, though now stained with grass, dirt and blood, slowly walked toward his wife. Buffy stood up and went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist as he hugged her. Angel glanced at Tara and mouthed, "Thank you." She smiled and quickly left the couple alone.

"Where's everyone else?" Angel asked pointedly.

Buffy pulled back out of his embrace and looked at him warily. "Joey went to the airport to pick up Dad and Jenny."

"Shit," Angel swore, having forgotten his in-laws had returned from their extended vacation for Thanksgiving.

Buffy took a deep breath. "And as far as I know Samantha is at the hospital with Spike."

“That daughter ruining piece of shit,” Angel grumbled pulling Buffy close again.

“As soon as we can get you out of here, I want to go see if Spike is okay,” Buffy said quietly, nervously holding the bottom of his shirt. He opened his mouth to speak, but when he met her gaze and saw the fear in them he snapped his mouth shut again and nodded.

“Fine,” he ground out.

***

Sunnydale Memorial Hospital was jammed packed full of people. He guessed the rumors about the holiday crazies were true because they were all out in force. He managed to persuade Buffy to go home and let him shower first before they headed over. Joey still wasn’t back from the airport. Angel had held his tongue, but he knew Buffy had to be really out of it if she let her fifteen year old daughter drive her car. Of course, the odds of Joey being pulled over because she looked too young were definitely not good. On the other hand, the odds of Joey being pulled over because she was doing ninety in a school zone were really great. Angel pushed the worries away. Right now, Joey was on her own. He had to trust that she could at least make it to the airport without killing herself, someone else, or getting arrested. He was fairly sure Giles would insist on driving home.

The showers made Buffy and Angel look slightly more presentable, but they did nothing to improve either of their moods. Buffy was still fragile to the point of shattering and Angel was so pissed he couldn’t give her the attention she needed.

It took them ten minutes at the information desk before they found out Spike’s room number. Buffy nervously kept an iron grip on Angel’s arm as they walked down the hall, afraid of what they might find, unsure of how to deal with Samantha and wary that Angel would say something to his friend that he might regret later.

Angel and Buffy paused the door, shocked by the sight before them. Spike was lying in the hospital bed looking beaten and bruised. His right eye was so swollen he couldn’t open it and his face was a mural of black and blue. Samantha was perched on the edge of the bed, her makeup free face red and blotchy, her clothes wrinkled from being up all night and her hair pulled back in a pony tail.

Buffy stopped in her tracks. She was utterly stunned. She hadn’t seen her daughter so unkempt since before she was in junior high. Samantha was always composed, always perfect. Her shaky hands traced Spike’s face softly and then she erupted into sobs.

“Shhh, luv,” Spike said through split lips. “I’m alright, pet. Just a little busted up is all.”

“I can’t believe Daddy did this to you,” she gasped through her tears.

“This is all your fucking fault, Spike,” Angel spat from the doorway. “My baby’s crying her little heart out!”

“Came here to finish the job, eh, mate?” Spike asked, squeezing Samantha’s hand in his before urging her away from the bed.

“You’re goddamn right,” Angel snarled, crossing the room in long, broad steps. He stopped to scoop the pillow off the empty neighboring bed and looked like a crazy man as he approached his long time friend.

Buffy realized that Angel meant to smother Spike. She leapt at her husband, linking her arm through his, throwing all of her meager weight, trying to stop him. Angel plowed ahead like she wasn’t even there.

“Stop!” Buffy screamed.

Her outburst seemed to bring Angel back to himself and he stopped, looking at her. She was staring at him, eyes wide, her entire body trembling. He reached out for her. “Buffy?”

She twisted away from him, her arms wrapped around herself. She backed up until she hit the wall and then she slid down it, huddling in a tiny ball on the floor, whimpering.

Angel and Samantha both stared at her in growing horror. “Buffy?” “Mom?” They asked in unison.

***

“She’s resting,” the doctor informed Angel. “We had to give her a powerful sedative. It should help her sleep through the night.”

“You’re going to keep her here ... overnight?” Angel asked in disbelief.

“Mr. Roarke,” Dr. Maganti said seriously, “I’m not sure you understand the gravity of this situation.”

Angel shrugged. “Buffy’s been pretty down lately,” he admitted.

The doctor looked unimpressed. “Sir, there is a very significant difference between ‘a little down’ and clinical depression. Your wife needs medical assistance.”

Angel ran a hand roughly over his face. This was the perfect end to a perfect day. Joey had gotten stopped for speeding, but somehow managed to talk her way out of the ticket. Angel didn’t want to know how. He assumed it considered flashing some skin. Spike had been released from the hospital and Samantha had taken him back to the apartment that Angel was paying for, thereby subsidizing his daughter’s love nest with her child-molesting boyfriend. And now Buffy had fallen completely and utterly apart.

***

Angel stayed the night in the hospital with Buffy scowling by her side. He didn’t understand why everything had to fall apart at once, why every single thing was just crumbling in his hands. In the morning, Buffy had a session with Dr. Maganti while Angel paced in the hallway irritably. He just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before, without Spike taking advantage of his baby and his wife loosing it every second and Joey being the troublemaker. The world was not as it should be.

After two hours, Angel was called into the office where Buffy was curled up on the end of a comfy looking couch, but she looked…almost afraid. He glared at the doctor with extra menace than he had originally intended because obviously the fucker was making Buffy more uncomfortable. Angel slid into the seat next to Buffy, took her hand in his and kissed her temple firmly before glaring back at the doctor.

“Mr. Roarke, Buffy is going to be going through some intense psychotherapy, and despite my suggestions to the contrary, she has decided on an outpatient program. She will be spending her days here in our facility but she will come home in the evenings.”

“All day?” Angel echoed.

“Yes,” Dr. Maganti answered calmly. “It was also my suggestion and your wife agrees, that you would benefit with meeting with Buffy and I in one of our sessions twice a week.”

“Me?” Angel sputtered. “I don’t need therapy.”

“I think your presence will help Buffy’s progress and I’d like to explore some anger management techniques-“

“I don’t need any fucking anger management!” he growled. “You help Buffy. That’s why we’re here.”

“No, that’s one of the reasons we’re here,” Dr. Maganti replied. “We’re also here because you put your friend and apparently your eldest daughter’s lover in the hospital.”

“I don’t want to open up. I don’t want to learn and share and grow. I’ll be supportive of my wife but that’s where it ends.”

“Angel,” Buffy said quietly. “I want you to come to the sessions.”

“I don’t have anger issues, Buffy. I’m fine. Do I fucking look angry to you?”

“Either you come to the sessions or I will accept the inpatient program and you won’t see me for a month,” she added, ignoring his outburst. She didn’t flinch when he yelled or when he jumped to his feet to pace around the office.

“This is blackmail!” Angel snarled.

“You have a choice,” Buffy said softly, pleading with her eyes, “but I really want to be at home with you.”

***

"How did you feel when Wesley informed you that Buffy had been at a party with," Dr. Maganti checked his notes, "Lindsey?"

Angel lifted his head from where he had been cradling it in his hands and glared at the doctor. "How did I feel?" he repeated incredulously. "How did I feel when my wife of eighteen years, the mother of my children, went out with some college boy, got drunk and made out in front of on one of my friends? How exactly do you think I felt?"

Dr. Maganti seemed completely unphased by Angel's show of temper. "Yet these events were not discussed as part of your reconciliation with your wife."

Angel ran a hand through his hair and glanced over at Buffy. "No," Angel admitted, "they weren't."

***

Buffy and Angel came home that night to the television blaring while Joey and some boy ate the greasiest pizza ever made. Angel noted that for once Joey's friend seemed to be the same age as her. Of course, he noted wryly to himself, for all he knew, Joey could be dating Wesley. The thought further ruined Angel's already foul mood.

"Honey," Buffy chided gently, stepping into the living room, "is that … nachos on the pizza?"

Angel walked upstairs before Joey could regale her mother with how she managed to bring pizza to new culinary lows. Angel was sick of talking. He was sick of thinking. It was all he could do not to leave the house and head straight to his father’s bar and drink himself into oblivion. At least that way, he wouldn’t have to think anymore, he wouldn’t have to have every second stretch over his skin, slicing away at what he’d been building for eighteen years.

What had he done that was so wrong? Why didn’t he have a right to be angry for what his wife had done? He was sickened by the thought of Buffy allowing that boy to touch her, infuriated that she had kicked him out and confused by why he was never good enough. After all these years, he had tried so hard to be the perfect father, the perfect husband. He got up every morning and went to work, making his business larger and more successful so his girls would never want for anything. He pulled himself out of the shit heap his father raised him in and made a life for them. He was fuming and he couldn’t even make his thoughts line up. He just couldn’t see why nothing was ever good enough.

He looked up and saw Buffy standing in the doorway, looking a little awkward and sad…and incredibly beautiful. It hit him just like the first time just then, looking over her lithe body in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Some days he wasn’t struck by her beauty. Some days she was just Buffy, his wife, his mate, the mother of his children, but tonight, with all that rage inside him, he knew how lucky he was again.

“I just wanted to tell you something,” she said, clearing her throat.

“What?” Despite his efforts, he snarled the word.

”I love you, Angel,” she said. She fought to keep the tears from filling her eyes as she spoke. “No matter what has happened, no matter what I’ve done or you’ve done, I love you. You and the girls are the most important thing in the world to me.” She watched him for a second, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, his hands clenched in tight fists. He stared at her but said nothing.

“Okay,” she added, “that’s all I wanted to say.”

She turned around and headed down the hallway, defeated. Never since she had known him, had he ever not responded when she said she loved him. The rejection was a little more than she could take and she knew it was going to be a long road to recovery if they could save their marriage.

She had almost reached the steps when he gripped her arm and whirled her around. He pulled her down the hall and slammed the door behind them before grabbing both of her upper arms and yanking her against his chest.

“I do love you, Buffy,” he said through gritted teeth. “I wish I didn’t love you so fucking much and maybe this wouldn’t be so hard.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with me then,” she rasped, letting the tears spill from her eyes.

“You betrayed me,” he said, holding her more tightly. “You let him touch you. You were going to give your body to him. You threw me out and moved on to someone younger and smarter and richer.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I was confused.”

“And if he hadn’t seen your scars, baby, what then? If he had tossed you on *our* bed, who would be with you right now?”

“I love you, Angel,” she repeated, collapsing into sobs. She leaned her head against his chest and ignored his bruising grip on her arms. “I love you,” she repeated again.

He growled in frustration, but forced himself to gentle, hugging her against his body. Eventually, her sobs subsided and she pulled away. Reluctantly, Angel let her go, sitting down heavily on their bed.

Buffy took a deep breath. "Neither one of us had mothers," she said quietly.

"No," Angel agreed.

Buffy nodded, sniffling as she continued. "And I think that both of us put some very unrealistic expectations on me, on what it means to be a mother to our children."

"You're a great mother, Buffy," Angel said wearily.

"Yes, but I'm a great mother at the price of losing me." Admitting that out loud to Angel and herself was more shocking than Buffy had thought possible, and tears streamed down her cheeks again. She shook her head, forcing herself to continue. "I spent so much time and effort trying to be everything to our girls, trying to make up for the childhood that I didn't have and you didn't have that I lost sight of what it means to be Buffy. And now our kids are almost grown and I don't know who I am."

"Buffy," Angel said softly.

"You did the same thing," she continued. "You were so hell bent on not being your father, on providing a perfect stable home and family that you worked too much, you were gone too much and you spoiled the girls rotten."

Angel snorted. "I did a great job on that last one," he said. "My oldest daughter is sleeping with someone old enough to be her father."

"That's my point, Angel," Buffy said seriously. "We did all these things … and life still turns out however it turns out. Nothing you did made Samantha turn to Spike. She fell in love with him."

"She's a child," Angel snapped. "She doesn't know what she wants."

"Like we didn't know what we wanted?" Buffy asked.

Angel was silent. "That was different," he said gruffly.

"I was eighteen and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you," she said seriously. "I knew I wanted to have your children."

Angel looked at his wife and smiled harshly. "And now you don't know what you want?" he asked quietly.

Buffy smiled at him, her bottom lip quivering. "I'm very confused right now," she said. "But I always know how much I love you."


	10. Chapter 10

Samantha rubbed her shoulder, glaring at her sister. “Hit me again and you lose the hand,” she promised darkly.

Joey snorted and rolled her eyes. She leaned in closer, so Giles and Jenny wouldn’t overhear. “Isn’t that Lindsey’s car?” she asked as they made their way up the front walk to the outpatient facility behind their grandparents. They were there for a group counseling session.

Samantha looked at the car. “It is,” she confirmed.

Once inside, Giles and Jenny started heading down the appropriate hallways. The girls hung back. “We’ll be there in a minute, Grandpa,” Samantha said with an innocent smile.

“Okay,” Giles replied, nodding. His expression was sober and he was deeply concerned about his daughter.

Joey and Samantha scurried around the corner to the front desk and found Lindsey loudly arguing with the receptionist. “I just want to see her,” he growled.

“I’m sorry, sir, you’re not on our list of approved visitors. You cannot see Mrs. Roarke.”

He opened his mouth to argue again when Samantha purred, “Lindsey.”

He turned around and automatically smiled. However, as they came closer, his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I thought you were Buffy.”

She extended her hand, smiling. “Samantha Roarke,” she said. “Buffy’s daughter. This is my sister, Josephine.”

“Ah,” Lindsey said, but his brow was still furrowed. While he logically understood that Buffy had an eighteen year old daughter, it was clear he really hadn’t worked that one through. Her daughters were beautiful, and all grown up. It was sobering to realize Buffy had children so old. “Well, uh,” he said awkwardly, “what can I do for you?”

“Leave,” Samantha said cheerily.

It took a moment for Samantha’s words to sink in, but Lindsey bristled. “Excuse me?”

“You hurt my mother,” Samantha informed him, “and you’re trying to destroy our family.”

“Buffy’s an adult,” Lindsey countered shortly. “She’s responsible for her own decisions.”

“You’re trying to take advantage of her while she’s in a bad situation,” Samantha replied, her cheerful mask fading away.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he said. “Now if you *ladies* will excuse me.”

“I have something you should see,” Samantha told him, keeping her emotions under perfect control.

Lindsey stopped his retreat and came back. Without hurrying, Samantha extracted a small envelope from her purse and handed it to him. Lindsey took the envelope and leafed through it. His posture went perfectly rigid, but he put on his best poker face. “I guess you’ve been busy,” he said.

Samantha smiled. “I show those pictures to my mother and she won’t want anything to do with you,” she told him flatly. “Walk away now and nobody ever has to know.”

“You know it wouldn’t do anything but hurt your mother if you showed her these pictures,” Lindsey replied defiantly. “I don’t think you would want to cause her unnecessary pain.”

“More pain than you would bring her?” Samantha offered. “More pain than being divorced from my dad would cause her? I don’t think so. I’m not bluffing, Lindsey. Walk away. And while the pictures of you and me might upset my mother, the ones of you and Joey could get you a very long time in prison.”

Lindsey snorted, looking at the pictures of him curled up in bed next to the obviously nude brunette. “I don’t think there’s anything illegal about two people enjoying themselves,” Lindsey told her flatly. “But nice try.”

“She’s fifteen. Think again.”

Lindsey’s head flipped around to Joey who just smiled brightly. He swallowed thickly, paling slightly.

“You could never practice law,” Samantha said darkly.

Lindsey eyed her up and down. “Remind me never to piss you off again,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat at her.

“Goodbye, Lindsey.”

Turning, Lindsey headed for the exit. Unfortunately, at that moment a very, very irritable Angel rounded the corner, looking for his daughters. They collided, causing Lindsey to drop the envelope as the pictures scattered on the ground.

“Oh, sorry,” Angel said reflexively, dropping to his knees to pick up the pictures. As he picked them up, he glanced at them. Angel went perfectly still. His expression murderous, he looked up, his gaze landing on Lindsey.

“Oh fuck,” Joey whispered, as she watched her father slowly rise to his full height and crumple the pictures in his hands, before dropping them slowly to the floor. Lindsey immediately began backing up but not nearly quickly enough. Angel sprang, slamming his fist into Lindsey’s face once, hard enough to send him hurling toward the floor.

“You,” he snarled. “First my wife now my little girls, you miserable fuck?”  
  
Angel dropped to his knees and crunched his fist down again. Samantha skittered forward, sliding in her heels on the slick tiled floors and nearly losing her balance. Visions of her father returning to jail terrified her enough to launch herself against him and tug him back.

“Daddy, Daddy,” she shouted. “Daddy, listen to me!”

Angel turned away from the unconscious law student to face his elder daughter. “What?”

“We set him up,” she mumbled.

“What?” he echoed, now in confusion, rather than anger.

“He never touched us, Daddy. We drugged him, posed him and took pictures,” Samantha announced. “It was insurance for our family.”

“You took off your clothes and got into bed with this home-wrecker?” Angel asked through gritted teeth, looking back and forth between his daughters. He pulled himself to his feet and stepped away from Lindsey’s unconscious body.

“Well, he was knocked the fuck out, Daddy,” Joey explained. “It’s not like he was enjoying the view or anything.”

“I wanted to make sure he stayed away from us, from Mom, to be specific,” Samantha said, looking directly in her father’s eyes. “Obviously nothing was going to keep him from pursuing her, so I made sure he had no choice but to back off.”

“Sweetheart,” Angel said, “occasionally, you are a very scary little girl.”

Samantha raised her chin defiantly. “Nobody fucks with me and mine,” she said, casting a quick grin to Joey for stealing one of more common phrases. Angel’s eyes widened and then he laughed out loud and pulled his daughters into his arms. They might be manipulative and intrusive and disobedient, but they were his angels and he never felt luckier to have them.

“Come on, Daddy,” Samantha said, pulling on his hand. They all glanced back at Lindsey. They needed to be gone before anybody found him.

****  
 _Six Months Later_  
****

“Okay, I think that wraps things up,” Samantha Roarke said, standing at the head of a giant, glossy conference room table. She looked over the members of the board of directors for Roarke Enterprises and gave them her best cool, professional smile. Taking her cue, they began filing out of the room. Keeping her head lifted high, she strolled across the room to the other end of the table where the company’s CEO sat.

“What do you think, Daddy?” she whispered, perching on the table near his chair.

“You were brilliant, Samantha! Simply brilliant,” Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, CIO, blustered. “They were all taken with you!”

Samantha smiled at him and fought the urge to roll her eyes before giving her father an amused look, which he echoed in his dark eyes. “Thank you, Wesley.”

“I agree completely, sweetheart,” Angel said, grinning. He rose to his feet and kissed her cheek. “You’re the perfect person to run the company. They’ll all be at your feet in no time.”

“We should celebrate Samantha officially taking over the reins of Roarke Enterprises,” Wesley announced, glancing at his watch. “I’d say the day is about finished. Shall we go have a drink?”

“I’ll have to take a rain check, Wes,” Angel said, slapping him on the shoulder. “I have a date tonight.”

“Oh god,” Samantha groaned. “Daddy, don’t you think you’re taking this dating thing a bit too far? You’re supposed to be an adult.”

“I am an adult,” he beamed. “I’m an adult who is taking a beautiful woman out for a night on the town and possibly, if I’m lucky, some debauchery will follow.”

“Please,” Samantha said, turning a little green. “Don’t overshare.”

Angel laughed and buttoned his jacket. He headed for the door, whistling a jaunty tune, looking forward to the night’s events. Just before he reached the door, Spike stepped in.

“Ready, pet?” he asked, focusing on Samantha. He took him a second to notice Angel’s presence and began backpedaling but was too late to dodge the fist that collided with his face. Spike, much to his credit, ducked back out of the room before he could hit him again.

“Dammit Daddy!” Samantha growled. “He’s my husband now. You can’t just hit him every time you see him!”

“I don’t,” Angel said, looking mildly offended. “I didn’t hit him at the wedding, remember? Just like I promised. I think I should get some credit for that.”

“You hit him at the reception,” Samantha said dryly.

“Once,” Angel returned. “And I promised the wedding. Nothing was said about the reception.”

“I think it should go without saying that my husband shouldn’t be decked on our wedding day.”

“See you later this week for dinner, sweetheart,” he answered, as if the conversation hadn’t happened. Resuming his whistling, he let himself out of the conference room.

***

“Right there! Right there! Harder!”

Angel’s fingers bit deeply into her hips as he slammed her down against him. As her climax washed over her, he growled, pressing his face against her shoulder as he let himself go.

Buffy giggled, collapsing against him. “We should have sex in the car more often,” she said languidly.

He smiled wryly in the darkness. “I think Joey’s getting sick of finding your underwear,” he noted.

“Too bad,” Buffy countered unrepentantly.

Turning his head, Angel found her mouth and kissed her long and deep. “I love you,” he whispered. She replied with a goofy grin.

Several minutes later, Buffy was once again sitting in her seat rather than straddling Angel. She righted her clothes and smoothed down her hair. “Where now?”

Angel frowned at her. “Well, I had plans,” he said. “But unfortunately, our little detour means we missed our dinner reservations. Everywhere else is going to be packed on a Friday night.”

“How about your Dad’s?” Buffy offered.

Angel shrugged and started the ignition. “Joey’s working there tonight, so it’ll be a great time to see how she’s doing.”

“I’m still not completely comfortable with her working there,” Buffy said, eyeing her husband in the dark. “It’s a bar.”

“She’s busing tables, baby,” Angel answered, turning toward the seedier part of town. “Besides, Pop would kill anyone who even looked at her the wrong way. Don’t worry about it. How much trouble can she get into washing glasses and wiping off tables?”

“Knowing our daughter, considerable trouble. Besides, Jake shouldn’t let her work there at all. She only just turned sixteen.” She turned in the seat and stared at her husband’s profile. “He’s paying her under the table, you know.”

“If it gets out of hand, we’ll make her quit,” Angel said, gathering her hand in his and smoothing his lips over her knuckles. “Besides, it cuts into her necking time.”

”All the freaks and weirdos she dates probably hang out there,” she groaned, but flushed as he slipped one of her fingers into his mouth. The afterglow she was basking in was heating up quickly and as she unbuckled her seatbelt to slide across the seat, he pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. She sighed, reaching for the door handle. Angel pulled her on her hand to get her attention and shook his head.

“Wait for me,” he said, leaning over to pull her into a heated kiss. “It’s a date. I get to open the door.”

“Okay, Romeo,” she giggled and watched as he got out and bounded around the car like a lovesick teenager. He opened the door with a flourish and took her hand as she stepped out, letting his eyes rake over the flash of toned thigh. Growling, he shut the door before pressing her against it and raking his fingers through her hair. He kissed her slowly, teasing her with little nips, raking his teeth over her lower lip. Smiling against her lips, he slipped the spaghetti strap of her little black dress down her right shoulder, moving to kiss a trail over the delicate column of her throat.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she giggled, pushing him away. “You’re buying me dinner. We have to have the date part of the date.”

He groaned and cupped her breast in his hand, pinching her nipple lightly. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he whispered, resuming his trail of kisses. Buffy’s head fell back and she groaned, rubbing her body against his. A truck pulled into the parking lot and the two men inside catcalled and whistled, jolting them back to reality.

“Inside, now,” Buffy said, frowning up at him.

He smiled his killer, crooked smile. “That’s exactly what I had in mind,” he said, grinding his pelvis against hers.

She couldn’t help it, she smiled. “You’re incorrigible,” she chided.

“And you love it,” he countered.

“I do,” she admitted with a wry smile, “but I still want to go check up on our daughter.”

Angel frowned. The one sure way to get his mind off of sex was to imply that one of his daughters might be in trouble. Reluctantly, he pulled away and held his hand out. Buffy took it and walked with him to the door.

The bar was exactly the way it had been when she stumbled inside two decades earlier. Honestly, Buffy couldn’t say that she had ever warmed to the place. It still filled her with apprehension, even now, and she couldn’t imagine why Joey would want to work here. As her gaze fell upon a table with a group of young, pierced bikers playing cards and tossing back shots, she amended that thought. Maybe she did know why Joey wanted to work here. She rubbed her temple, trying to ward off the growing headache.

Joey was behind the bar drying mugs as they approached. Jake leaned against the counter, watching her. “Don’t you be nippin’ off the fuckin’ tap back there either,” he growled. “I’m not about to get closed down because of you.”

Joey curled her lip into a snarl and flipped him the bird. “Fuck off old man,” she yelled.

Jake just smiled and turned around to rejoin his card game. Buffy shook her head. She would never understand the bizarre relationship that Joey had with her grandfather. As far as she could tell, it consisted mostly of insult flinging and growls. But it seemed to work for both of them, so she never interceded.

“Oh great,” Joey groaned as she spotted her parents enter. “It’s June and Ward Fuckbunny. Are you guys checking up on me?”

“Josephine,” Buffy chided. “Could you not use that language every time you open your mouth?”

“Look, thanks for looking in on me, but Gramps keeps me from the taps and the bikers, so it’s all good. Thanks for stopping in though. Bye, bye,” Joey answered, waving in mock cheerfulness.

“Nice try,” Angel said, stepping behind the bar and nudging his daughter aside. “What would you like to drink, my love?”

“I’ll have a Chardonnay,” Buffy answered, beaming back a smile. “And does your Dad still have those little pizza thingies in the kitchen? I love those.”

“I’m not sure that goes with white wine, but Joey will go see,” Angel said, winking at his wife while he wrapped his arm around his daughter.

“Daddy!” Joey whispered harshly, pulling away. “You’re my *parent*. You can’t hug me in public!”

“Yes, Angel, what were you thinking?” Buffy asked, with obvious amusement. Jake ambled over the bar to greet them. Buffy was always taken back on what a large man he was. Ever since she first saw him, she had been intimidated by his size. It wasn’t until he stood next to Angel that she realized he wasn’t all that big anymore. In fact, her husband’s arms were larger.

“Joey, go get your mama some pizza rolls. Christ knows she needs a fucking meal,” Jake ordered gruffly.

“I was about to do that before Dad made with the PDA,” Joey growled, stomping toward the back, mumbling. “Can’t even have a job for a goddamn second without them butting in.”

“Hello Jake,” Buffy said, unable to hide her grin. Something about him just made her smile these days. It wasn’t until her daughters were old enough to verbally spar with him that she understood. He was just a gruff old man wrapped around the pinkies of his grandchildren.

“Buffy,” Jake nodded. “I see you got my son into shape again. You had him cryin’ in his beer like a little pussy. You sure crack that whip, don’tcha?”

Buffy looked over at Angel and took his hand. She couldn’t believe she had actually contemplated living her life without him in it. She couldn’t fathom how she thought she would live a life without Angel. “Well,” she said, glancing back at Jake, “a woman’s got to keep her man in check.”

“Well, someone needs to control him,” Jake said, slapping Angel on back hard enough to shove him forward. Angel shook his head, glad he had already set down Buffy’s wine glass before that happened.

“How’s Joey working out, Pop? She doing alright?”

“Well, she’s a damn sight better than you ever were,” Jake gruffed, leaning against the bar. “She knows how to clean a fucking glass.”

“Hey, I worked my ass off,” Angel countered irritably.

Jake rolled his eyes. “You were such a goddamn martyr,” he informed his son shortly. “I know I was a screw up and I accept that, but you – “ he poked Angel in the chest. “You were a fucking handful. Couldn’t work a single goddamn night without bitching and moaning every second. I couldn’t keep a fucking waitress for more than a week because you were always nailin’ ‘em in the back room and then breakin’ their little hearts. And to top it off, you’re one of the shittiest bartenders I’ve ever seen.”

Joey returned from the back room carrying a plate of pizza rolls, which she set before Buffy. Jake hooked an arm around her neck and pulled her back for a gruff hug. “Nothin’ like Joey here,” he said affectionately. “This girl knows how to tend bar.”

Joey grinned brightly at both her parents. Angel let the subject drop. He still firmly believed his father had been a horrible parent, but twenty years of living had given him a little perspective on the fact that maybe he had been a little difficult to get along with, he realized. This was all relative as he noticed his daughter’s shirt.

“Joe,” he groaned, “I asked you not to wear that shirt.”

Joey just smiled in satisfaction and smoothed her hands over the material. It was a tight little babydoll t-shirt at least two sizes too small. The material was black and it had glittery red writing that spelled out “jailbait”. Angel had vowed to burn the shirt the last time he saw her in it, but she’d managed to hide it where he couldn’t find it.

Buffy grabbed Angel’s hand and urged him to join her at one of the barstools. Reluctantly, he did so, leaving his daughter to her job. He took a seat and Joey set a bottle of Bud in front of him. Angel cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t serving,” he said.

“You’ll need it,” she assured him.

“For what?” Angel asked warily.

“For when I tell you my underwear matches the shirt.”

Angel took a drink and didn’t put the bottle down until it was empty.


End file.
